Nightmare in Nevada
by BJC525
Summary: Mulder & Scully are sent on a gruesome assignment and solving the crime is only the beginning of the nightmare. Mytharc
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Nightmare in Nevada

AUTHOR: BJC525

CATEGORY: XF, ADVENTURE

KEY WORDS: UST, MT, ST

DISCLAIMER: Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, Skinner, et al, belong of course to CC, 1013 Productions, and Fox Broadcasting. No infringement intended of anyone or anything is intended...this is just for fun folks - ENJOY!

SPOILERS: Patient X/ The Red and the Black. Chinga (blink and you'll miss it.)

SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully are sent to head up a gruesome assignment. Completing the assignment is only the beginning of their nightmare.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Ignores everything after Season 5. This is a major formatting revision of a previous story "The Long and Winding Road". I reformatted and broke into chapters for easier reading and hopefully fixed all the typos.

NIGHTMARE IN NEVADA

FBI Headquarters - Washington D.C.; 28th September 0830

THWAAACK

Special Agent Dana Scully stood in front of the filing cabinet, trying to remember where the folder was for the report she was working on. After ten minutes of fruitless searching with absolutely no offer of assistance from her partner, Scully was ready to give up. With Mulder's idea of a filing system, she'd just have to ask him. (Probably the bottom drawer,) she thought morosely, (at the very back.) She sighed quietly. (And if it is - he's getting it,) she vowed to herself.

THWAAACK

Scully paused, her brow furrowing as the strange sound penetrated her awareness. (What was that?), she thought.

THWAAACK

Slowly she turned around to find her partner, Fox Mulder, leaning precariously back in his chair. With a sharpened pencil in hand, he stared at the ceiling, took careful aim and flicking his wrist, sent the pencil straight up. Silently, she followed the trajectory and saw the pencil join at least ten others above his head.

THWAAACK

Quickly Scully turned away, groaning inwardly. (Not again.) She searched her memory, trying to remember when it was that she had discovered her partner's dubious talent of tossing pencils up and imbedding them in the ceiling tiles. When it came to her, she grinned broadly, grateful that Mulder couldn't see her face as she rolled her eyes heavenward. An all too familiar gesture where her partner was concerned. She nearly laughed aloud remembering how he looked when the pencils started raining down on him. (Oh, please let them start falling down now,) she pleaded silently; (I could really use a laugh right about now.)

THWAAACK

She opened her mouth to make some comment on the appropriate use of pencils bought with the taxpayers money, when the phone rang, cutting her off. Seeing that Mulder preferred to ignore it as usual, she sighed again and picked it up.

"Scully," she said, briskly.

"Agent Scully, this is Kimberly. AD Skinner needs to see you and Agent Mulder in his office, right away."

"We'll be right there." She hung up the phone and caught Mulder watching her.

"What's up?" He asked, his tone light but knowing by the look in Scully's blue eyes that it was back to business.

"Skinner wants to see us." She eyed him intently. "What did you do now?"

"Me!" He exclaimed all innocence, his sparkling hazel eyes purposefully wide. "Why me? I've just spent the last 5 weeks on that trial - which, I might add, was successfully prosecuted. A job well done, I believe I heard mentioned. So if anything, I should be getting a bonus." He grinned smugly; confident for once that he was totally in the clear.

Scully folded her arms across her chest, unconvinced. "Well, he wouldn't want both of us if you're getting a bonus," she said darkly, glaring at him suspiciously. She racked her memory, trying to come up with a reason for the

summons. "Are you sure your nose is clean?" she persisted.

Mulder stood up to put on his jacket and moved around the desk. "Absolutely." And before Scully could blink, he reached out and ran his index finger gently down her nose. "What about you, Scully? How clean is this little freckled nose?" he inquired mischievously.

She swatted his hand away with a laugh, even as a subtle thrill coursed through her at his intimate touch. "Perfectly clean," she replied, mimicking his tone and response. "While you were busy, I was teaching at Quantico. One of the instructors broke his leg, so they were grateful that I could fill in on such short notice. Another job well done, I might add."

Mulder frowned. (Oh, great. Maybe it's about something before that trial,) he thought dejectedly.

"So if we're both due for bonuses, how come it feels like we're heading for the principal's office?" Mulder asked, picking up Scully's pessimism.

"Guilty conscience, I would imagine," Scully retorted smartly, moving towards the door with a smile. She had scored on that one and she intended to make a victorious exit.

Mulder, however, hadn't admitted defeat in this round of their Game and he wasn't about to let her get off so easily. He reached out with his long arm and snagged Scully at the elbow pulling her quickly around so they were facing each other. Instinctively, Scully put her hands up to his chest to catch herself even though she knew Mulder wouldn't let her fall. She looked up at him in surprise, her face inches from his, his breath warm on her cheek.

"Now why would I have a guilty conscience, Scully?" he asked huskily, his hazel eyes twinkling. He breathed deeply. (God, she smelled good.)

Outwardly recovering her composure, Scully pushed herself back a step, even as her heart skipped a beat and her breath caught in her throat. Mulder released her with a grin, attempting to mask his own feelings of arousal caused by Scully's hands at his chest. He could still feel their warmth through the thin material of his shirt.

"Where do you want me to start?" Scully asked primly, straightening her skirt and adjusting her jacket – looking anywhere but at her partner.

Mulder, however, noticed what she was trying to hide: her cheeks were flushed a bright pink. (That's a point for me.) Trying not to laugh, he backed off. Scully had scored earlier but he had definitely emerged the victor.

"Come on, Scully; Skinner awaits," he said, still smirking as he held the door open for her. Scully simply glared up at him as she stepped out into the hall.

There was no further conversation as they hurried out. If Skinner had bad news, they didn't want to add insult to injury by keeping him waiting.

Scully led the way into Skinner's outer office and seeing that Kimberly was on the phone, assumed she and Mulder should sit and wait. She turned and started towards the chairs but Mulder stopped her with his hand on her shoulder. She looked back at him, silently questioning him with one delicately arched eyebrow.

"We're being waived in," he whispered darkly.

Scully looked over at Kimberly, who was indicating that they should go on in. With Mulder's hand at the familiar place at the small of her back, Scully stepped into Skinner's office. At their arrival, the AD looked up from the file he was reading.

"Agents, have a seat." He paused to allow them to get settled before going on. "We have a situation in Northwestern Nevada."

Mulder and Scully kept their faces neutral. A "situation" could be anything from a nuclear bomb to a car crash. They managed to exchange the briefest of glances that conveyed their relief - neither was getting called on the carpet.

Skinner went on, "Four hours ago, VCS received a call from a game warden out there. A number of bodies were discovered piled atop each other and covered by a tarp, deep in the forest. I want you two to lead the team being sent out there to investigate. A military transport plane will be leaving in 2 1/2 hours."

Mulder and Scully looked at each other. Though no words were spoken, and Skinner got the distinct impression that they just drew straws to see who would question his order. Mulder, apparently, lost.

"Excuse me, sir, but if VCS got the call, won't we be stepping on toes if we're in charge?" he inquired.

Skinner leaned back in his chair. "Under 'normal' circumstances, yes."

"So are we to assume that these aren't 'normal' conditions?" he persisted, seeing that the Assistant Director wasn't going to volunteer an explanation.

Skinner answered by handing him a photo. Scully leaned over to see; her auburn hair grazing his dark brown as they studied the grainy black and white photo taken from above. It looked like someone had pitched a tent in a clearing and had written on the canvas. A single word.

(So it is an X-file,) Mulder thought, his mouth suddenly dry. He looked over to see that his partner had visibly paled.

"Does this say what it looks like it says?" he asked quietly.

"MUFON," Skinner confirmed.

"Are the bodies under there?" Scully asked, managing to keep her voice steady.

"Yes," Skinner replied. He watched them carefully. "That's why we don't have an accurate body count or description. The tarp is anchored with stakes around the entire circumference."

Scully took a deep breath. "Were the bodies burned?"

"It doesn't appear so," Skinner responded.

Mulder silently exhaled in relief.

"Agents," Skinner said as he took off his glasses and came around his desk, leaning back on it. "Off the record," he continued, his voice soft.

"What is it, sir?" Scully asked curiously.

"What I'm about to say, I don't want you to take personally. Either of you," he said carefully.

Mulder leaned back in his chair. He had a pretty good idea where his boss was headed. Especially since he was already there.

Skinner went on, "To be perfectly honest, I'm concerned about you working on this case."

"Even though we're the most qualified," Scully stated flatly. It was not a question.

Skinner held up his hand, glancing at Mulder, who met his gaze without flinching. (Mulder understands,) he immediately realized, so he turned his attention to Scully. "Agent Scully, I realize I may sound a little out of

character here, so bear with me. As your superior, I do in fact have every confidence in your abilities. You two have the only experience with MUFON. But I wouldn't be human if I just ignored why you have so much experience with that group; what with everything you've both been through."

Out of the corner of her eye, Scully caught Mulder staring at her. The haunted look on his face reigned her in. "You're right, sir," she said calmly. "I - I'm sorry."

Skinner relaxed. "No need to apologize. As I've said, these are not normal circumstances. So, just between the 3 of us: if either of you feel that VCS should handle this assignment - I want you to tell me. No questions asked."

Once more, Scully faced Mulder. Their eyes met and held. It was obvious to Mulder that Scully was not about to back down from this. Her eyes had turned a steely blue and her mouth was set in a grim line. (Well, if she went,) he thought despondently, (he'd follow...to the ends of the Earth, if necessary.)

For a brief moment, Skinner swore that they were communicating telepathically, as he waited, surprised by their silence. Maybe they were psychic. The air felt charged, somehow. Skinner watched them closely, the skin on the back of his neck prickled with the tension.

"We'll be fine, sir," Mulder finally said.

"Thank you for your concern, sir," Scully added.

Skinner looked them both over before nodding. He thought so. Replacing his glasses, he returned to his chair and handed a file over. "Here's the list of personnel assigned to you. The Army Corps of Engineers is setting up camp. The plane leaves in 2 hours and 15 minutes. Weather conditions are enclosed," he said briskly.

Mulder took the file and rose to leave, with Scully right behind him.

"Agents," Skinner called after them.

They both paused and turned back.

"Good luck," he said before immediately bending over another file, dismissing them.

Mulder glanced at Scully, shrugged and headed out.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As they hurried back to the basement, Mulder kept silent while Scully took the file and began scanning the information in it. He knew he'd only upset her if he expressed any concern about her being on this case. He didn't want to fight. Not now. Especially not now. But that wouldn't stop him from worrying and he vowed to himself that he'd keep an extra close eye on her. Involvement with MUFON members had been an on going nightmare. The members that had died of cancer, Scully's attachment to them, and he'd never forget the terror that went through him when he had thought she'd been one of the burned corpses on Skyland Mountain last year. He understood exactly where Skinner was coming from. He only wished Scully did as well.

In the privacy of their office, Mulder finally spoke, "I'll be over in an hour, if that's okay."

Scully nodded as she picked up her briefcase. "Here's the file," she said, "and I suggest that you pack your long johns," she joked.

Mulder took the folder but didn't return her smile. He couldn't even look at her.

Scully sighed, finally picking up on her partner's mood. (Mulder had definitely backed down too easily,) she thought. Placing her briefcase on the desk, she planted herself in front of him. "Mulder, come on. I'll be fine. I can handle this, OK?"

Mutely he stared down at her. He swallowed with difficulty as her luminous blue eyes cast their spell over him, imploring him. Scully took his hands in hers: they were cold. Suddenly she understood. Or thought she did.

"It's you," she said slowly, "you're worried that you-" she broke off.

Not trusting his voice, he simply shook his head. How could he tell her that he would always remember how she had looked that day they found her in the woods, having somehow survived the firestorm? The burns on her face and hands, the horror in her eyes that comes with memory loss, and her bone-chilling regression hypnosis session. He shuddered. Scully reached up to grip his shoulders.

"Come on, Mulder, please," she pleaded, shaking him gently, "please snap out of it - you're starting to scare me."

Mulder looked down at Scully's upturned face, her blue eyes wide. "Sorry, Scully," he said; his voice low. "It's just that Skinner's right. I don't have anything good associated with MUFON."

Scully sighed again, in understanding, her arms dropping to her side, head bowed. "Me either." She took a deep breath. "But we have a job to do."

"I know," Mulder replied, "but that won't stop me from worrying."

Scully smiled faintly, her eyes catching his. She reached over and took his hands again, trying to warm them. "I'll be worrying right along with you, G-man. Deal?"

Mulder shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at her use of their pet name, and he gave her hands a squeeze in return. "Deal, G-woman. Long johns, huh?"

Breathing a small sigh of relief, Scully retrieved her briefcase, releasing his hands, "Don't be late," she warned him. "Military planes pride themselves on sticking to their schedules." And with those words, she hurried out.

Mulder watched her go; his heart in his throat. He had a really bad feeling about this case. And the fact that Scully hadn't been upset by his determination to worry about her bothered him. Usually she just reminded him that she would be fine. Fine. He really, really hated that word.

Despite Scully's warning, they arrived at the airfield with only minutes to spare. They quickly stowed their luggage and were escorted to their seats by a burly airman. The young man made no attempt to hide his displeasure at being kept waiting. Mulder made a crack about in-flight movies and was promptly elbowed in the ribs by Scully.

There was no further opportunity for conversation as the plane taxied to the runway and Mulder and Scully scrambled to get their seatbelts fastened. During the flight, they acquainted themselves with their team members, reviewed assignments, and gave a briefing on MUFON. After landing in Las Vegas, they were immediately transferred to the site by helicopter. They landed a safe distance away so as not to disturb the crime scene. Army Corps of Engineers was hard at work, setting up living quarters, mess tent, morgue-lab, and command-communications center. They could see Krieg lights encircling what they presumed to be the mass gravesite, 40 yards away.

Major Thompson, who was in charge of the army men, met the FBI team. After introductions were made, he addressed Mulder, "I've got maps of the camp for everyone and I took the liberty of making tent assignments based on the list

provided by A.D. Skinner. If there's anything else you need, let me know."

"Thank you, Major," Mulder replied, "We'll stash our gear and get started." After the major left, Mulder instructed everyone to get unpacked and meet at the gravesite in 30 minutes. He quickly distributed the maps and confirmed that everyone knew what they were responsible for.

Scully was silent. She knew that they were all seasoned agents but how did you really prepare for mass murder?

She hung back as everyone else drifted off to find his tent. Mulder quickly scanned the layout of the camp, committing it instantly to memory. When he saw the tent assignments, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. As the only female on the team, Scully had been assigned to a smaller tent - alone. Mulder would be next door with Agents Jamison and Hartley.

"Hey Scully - need a roommate?" he asked with a leer.

Scully smiled wryly, easily seeing through Mulder's wisecrack. He was worried about her. (So what else is new?)

"No, I do not need a roommate," teasing him with a haughty voice to hide her own discomfiture, "You go to your own tent. I'll meet you out there in a few minutes." She couldn't repress a slight shudder at what awaited them. Mulder, of course, saw it. (Oh, well,) she thought dismally, (Maybe he should be worried about me. I know I'll definitely be worrying about him.)

"Sure, Scully," he said evenly, watching her closely, "I'll be right there."

Thirty minutes later they were assembled around the gravesite. The first order of business had been to completely photograph the area from every possible angle. After the tarp was pulled away, everyone had to work through their shock and horror at the sight of bodies piled atop each other. The grisly sight and smell caused several people to vomit. Mulder definitely looked ill and Scully had to swallow back the bile that rose in her throat, turning her head away. Someone picked up a pamphlet with gloved hands and handed it to Mulder. He glanced at it briefly, not needing to read it. It was a MUFON pamphlet. He'd seen plenty of them in the past.

The bodies had been piled facedown and to everyone's added outrage, they discovered that the bodies were desecrated. Based on the number that they could see, they all appeared to be butchered in an identical manner. The skin and tissue had been stripped away at the back of the neck. Staring at the massacre before her, Scully had subconsciously reached back to touch the site of her implant at the back of her own neck. Mulder, too, thought of his partner. Noticing her hand at her neck gave him goose bumps. (Oh, God, it could have been her, too.)

"Scully," he whispered in her ear, causing her to jump slightly, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Scully remained silent, unable to speak. There really was no point in responding.

Mulder continued, "It looks like someone just reached out and ripped the implant out."

That statement snapped Scully out of the horror that had enveloped her brain like a fog. "We don't know that these people had implants," she whispered fiercely, turning to confront her partner. Her cheeks were flushed in anger. Or fear, Mulder reasoned, his face calm amid Scully's storm.

"Well someone apparently thought that they did," he said evenly.

He took no satisfaction at the look on her face. His statement had obviously sucker-punched her. She closed her mouth with a snap and her once flushed cheeks paled.

(Oh no,) she thought helplessly, (He's right. Whether or not these people had implants wasn't the issue. What if someone thought that they did?)

Mulder watched her face, regretting his words. It was pretty obvious what was going through her mind. Being right wasn't worth it. (Is this how you take care of your partner?) He chided himself. This case had just started and already he was flooded with guilt. (Great. . . I've probably broken my own world record.)

"Come on, Scully. I'm sorry," he said softly, reaching for her arm. "Let's go. We'll start the autopsies in the morning."

Scully allowed herself to be led away, her mind reeling as she struggled to take it all in. (How could someone do this?) she thought helplessly.

Mulder kept an eye on her, hesitant to leave her alone at her tent. Scully realized this and attempted to reassure him.

"Just let me catch my breath. This is a shock, but I'll be ready to go. Okay?" She tried to put strength in her voice. (Boy, aren't we off to a wonderful start?)

"Yeah - okay," Mulder said. "The sooner we do this, the sooner we get out of here. I'll be right next door if you need anything."

Scully smiled, forgiving him for his earlier remarks. "The same goes for you."

Impulsively Mulder gave her a brief, fierce hug before rushing to his tent. He was grateful that she wasn't mad at him. He didn't look back. Scully watched him go. She hoped to get through this case with her sanity intact. And Mulder's, too.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Day after day, Scully worked in the morgue as body after body was brought in to be catalogued, identified, autopsied and packaged. Any personal belongings were carefully searched. It all became a grisly blur. Working in such primitive conditions had increased everyone's workload exponentially. The total was up to 39. She knew that she would be eternally grateful that the temperatures had not risen above 70 degrees and that the bodies had not been exposed to the sun, otherwise none of them would have been able to handle the gruesome duty.

It was Day 9.

Mulder had the equally unenviable task of notifying families and next-of-kin, conducting interviews with devastated husbands, wives, sons, and daughters. All the agents who had phone detail were nearly overcome by the continued outpouring of grief, shock, denial, and rage that poured through the phone lines.

Night after night they all struggled to put it behind them and try to sleep. Sleep was their only escape although through nightmares, the horror would return regularly for most of them. On that ninth night, Mulder awoke with a violent start, gasping for breath, his body bathed in sweat despite the 40-degree chill in the air. He lay in bed, waiting for his heart rate to return to normal, his hazel eyes wide, trying to separate the terror of his nightmare from the waking horror he and the others were living each day here. He shuddered as the images from his own nightmare floated before him, refusing to go away no matter how hard he rubbed his eyes.

Scully was one of the victims - her body on the top of the heap of mutilated corpses - face down - her reddish-gold hair matted with her blood - flesh ripped from the back of her slender neck - lifeless blue eyes staring...

"No - dammit!" He hissed in frustration and fear, "No. She's fine. She's okay." The images, however, remained and would not go away. Grimly he put on his sneakers, grabbed his jacket and slipped out of his tent. The two other agents slept on - oblivious. Once outside, he paused, trying to catch his breath. He knew he was behaving illogically, but he was known to do that where Dana Scully was concerned. Besides, going back to sleep would be impossible without checking on her first. A quick glance around confirmed that the camp was quiet.

As he stealthily stepped over to Scully's tent, he flashed back to his yearly visits to summer camp. He was 10 years old and he and two other boys had snuck over to the girls' camp on the other side of the hill, intent on bringing back their flag. They had gotten caught and it was left to Mulder, the oldest to explain. He hadn't known what to say then. What would he say now, if he was discovered lurking outside Agent Dana Scully's tent at 2:00 in the morning?

(I have to know she's okay,) he muttered softly before plunging inside.

The space heater provided little illumination. Mulder pulled his penlight from his coat pocket. Standing at the entrance of her tent, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, he turned the tiny light on. Aiming the beam at the ceiling provided enough light to see and he took a step closer. The comfort he took in seeing her safe quickly dissipated as he stared at her face.

Tonight, sleep brought her no peace either. Her brow was furrowed, her full lips moved as if she was speaking but no sounds came out. Mulder could only stand and stare at her helplessly. Unexpectedly, Scully began to thrash; her arms and legs becoming entangled in the covers. As she became more and more agitated, Mulder realized he'd have to wake her or risk having half the camp in here if she cried out.

Without any hesitation, he moved to her. He was a step away when Scully suddenly, and without warning, sat straight up in bed - her eyes wild with terror. The sudden movement jolted Mulder as if he'd been hit with a cattle prod.

Dropping his penlight, he shot forward to Scully's side. Before she could utter a sound, he clamped one hand over mouth and gently but firmly pushed her back down on her cot.

Not surprising, she began to fight him. Mulder caught her hands before she could connect, as he quickly reassured her, "Scully - it's Mulder - it's okay," he whispered urgently at her ear. "Ssssh, it's okay - it's me."

Scully froze, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, realizing that it really was Mulder hovering over her, holding her wrists in an iron grip. She winced slightly, causing Mulder to immediately release her.

"Sorry, Scully," he apologized.

She stared up at him - gasping for breath. Finally she found her voice, "Oh God, Mulder! What are doing! You nearly scared me to death!" She panted, her chest painfully tight.

"Actually, you nearly scared me to death!" he retorted good-naturedly, but shakily. He took her hand and placed it over his pounding heart as if to prove his point. "I was afraid you were going to scream and wake the whole camp."

Her thoughts in turmoil, Scully pulled her hand back and placed it over her own racing heart.

Mulder watched her closely, "That must have been some nightmare you were having," he said, his voice filled with sympathy.

Scully pushed it aside and shook her head. "It was nothing - really. I'm fine," she babbled, looking away, "You know - just a bad dream - everything going on around here -" she abruptly broke off and saw that Mulder's gaze had drifted away. Scully realized that Mulder had just tuned her out.

(Wait a minute. What is really going on here?) She thought incredulously, (This isn't about my nightmare at all.) Then it hit her: (What was he doing in my tent in the first place?) She reached back to turn on the small lantern at the head of her cot. By the light, she struggled to read him, to look into his troubled eyes and get the answers she needed.

"Mulder, what's going on? Has something happened?" her tone becoming more concerned. "Are you okay?"

Mulder dropped his gaze, rocking back on his heels. This was definitely not going as planned. Scully pulled herself to a sitting position.

(Something _is_ wrong,) she thought, fighting the dread that coursed through her veins like ice water. She watched him anxiously, reaching out to touch the hand that rested on the edge of her cot. At her touch, he moaned softly.

"Mulder - what is it?" she beseeched him, her voice betraying the alarm she felt. "What aren't you telling me?"

Mulder cringed. He knew that tone and his face seemed to sag as he looked uneasily away. (What's wrong with me?) He berated himself. (I get so frustrated with her for not opening up to me and here I am closing her off. Some example I'm setting.)

Rubbing his eyes, he finally confessed the fears that had brought him here. "Have you ever been so deep in a nightmare that you didn't know it _was_ a nightmare? Not even after you woke up?"

Scully let out the breath she'd been holding. She had been imagining any number of horrifying reasons for Mulder's behavior, but not this. "A nightmare," she said, taking hold of his hand. "I'm sorry. Was it Samantha?" She felt bad for him; no one should have to relive an event like that over and over again.

Mulder shook his head. "No - not Samantha." (I don't want to do this) he thought frantically. (I don't want to tell her.) But he knew he couldn't back out now. He took a breath and plunged ahead.

"You were dead, Scully!" he blurted out. "I saw it with my own eyes. I walked over there and you - you were at the top of that pile. I could actually feel your skin: it was icy cold. And the blood. There was blood everywhere." His hands gestured wildly as he relived the horror. "And the smell. God, the smell. I could smell death, decay, and the blood. I really did. And your neck. The skin was ripped away, bones were sticking-" he abruptly shut up when he caught sight of Scully's face.

Her hands were at her mouth; her eyes wide and filled with shock. She looked like she might faint - or get sick – or both!

"Dammit - I'm sorry, Scully! I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so graphic," he said, his voice filled with remorse. "I'm sorry..."

Scully waived him off, "It's okay - I'm okay," she said weakly.

Mulder sighed. "It was so real. I knew without a doubt that I wouldn't get back to sleep until I saw with my own eyes that you were all right." His voice dropped. "You probably think I'm a complete idiot," he heard himself whisper.

Scully stared at him in amazement and confusion. (Is that how Mulder sees me? Am I that judgmental and distant towards him?) She didn't think so, but then again, sometimes - usually - she'd pull away. (Don't worry about me, Mulder. I'm fine, Mulder.) Did he think that because she didn't tell him her fears that she'd think him "an idiot" if he did? Didn't he understand that she didn't want to worry him? Didn't want to burden him? But that if she did open up to him or he to her, that it was okay. They were partners, for God's sake.

She could never think less of him for sharing his fears. She didn't stop to think that the reverse might also be true. All of a sudden she remembered her own nightmare. Life without Mulder. Life without the man who meant more to her than life itself. (No. No way.) It was like an epiphany.

Before he could go on, she suddenly launched herself at him, holding him tightly. He nearly fell backwards before regaining his balance, his arms automatically wrapped around her slender waist and held on.

"Mulder, don't say that!" she cried, unable to look at him. "I do not think you're an idiot! I - I dreamed it was you! I was dreaming that you were killed - that someone thought that you had an implant!" She drew in a tortured breath and bit down on her bottom lip. "I did your autopsy." She buried her face in her hands, helpless to go on.

Mulder was aghast and too stunned to say anything. (Boy, there was something he had never dealt with: doing an autopsy on your partner. For all the nightmares he had ever had, that seemed more unendurable than anything did.) For several minutes he sat there with an armful of a trembling Scully until she tilted her head up. Her voice tickled his ear, sending goose bumps down his arms.

"If you hadn't been here -" she stopped abruptly.

"What, Scully?" he urged, silently begging her to keep her walls down. "What would you have done?"

"I - I probably would have done the same thing," she murmured softly, finally looking up at him. Her eyes glistened with tears she refused to let fall.

Their eyes met and held. The electricity crackled between them. No words were spoken. Nothing needed to be said. Mulder rose to his feet, gently pulling Scully up with him, and then hugging her tightly. Scully leaned into him as he buried his face in her hair and tightened his embrace. At last, he pulled back. His hands traveled from her arms, across her shoulders, up her slender neck until he had her face in his hands. Her eyes never left his, her skin on fire at his touch. His fingers caressed her cheeks, her lips...

At that moment, someone walked past Scully's tent. The 2 agents instantly stepped apart as if they'd been doused with cold water. The spell was broken. The moment lost.

"I should go," Mulder muttered, his breath ragged.

"We should try to get some sleep," Scully managed weakly.

"Yeah," Mulder agreed half-heartedly. He planted a kiss on her cheek and drifted out, into the night, without saying another word.

One hand on her cheek, reliving the kiss, Scully crawled into her cot, pulling up the covers to her chin. (What is happening to us?) Two tears finally slid down.

For both of them, sleep was very slow in coming.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Morning brought more of the same, and everyone was determined to make this the last day. It meant 12 or more straight hours for them all.

By 3:00 that afternoon, Scully was almost dead on her feet, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm her.

Rubbing her temples and squeezing her red and scratchy eyes after her third complete autopsy, she looked over to see Mulder heading her way, carrying a small brown bag, his face grim. Actually, striding was probably a more accurate term. She straightened up, preparing herself for the worst.

"Mulder, what is it?" she asked, thinking for one frantic moment that the bag he was holding contained a body part or something equally gruesome.

"This?" he asked, holding up the brown sack. "This is lunch. Which, by the way, I'm going to sit and supervise you eating, since you apparently can't be trusted to do so on your own."

Scully stood frozen - gaping at him in utter disbelief. "What!" she finally managed to gasp, completely unprepared for his statement.

Unperturbed, Mulder continued, "You didn't eat breakfast, you haven't eaten lunch, and it is now almost 3:30 in the afternoon. So, sit down and get comfortable before you collapse."

Scully's mouth worked in an effort to argue - to protest - to tell Mulder to go to - but he placed one finger on her lips effectively putting a halt to her protests.

"Please, Scully," he said softly, pleading. "Please. I'm too tired to argue. And I'm too concerned about you to worry about being politically correct as your partner. You're literally swaying with fatigue as we speak. Besides, you'd do the same to me. You know you would. So, sit down, eat up, and then you can go back to work. Deal?"

Scully caught the gleam of the impish Mulder behind his own fatigued and worried eyes. She relented, giving him a weary half-smile. Mulder was right. She would do the same to him. She sat down.

"Thanks," he said happily, taking a seat next to her and handing her the bag.

Shaking her head ruefully, she reached in to find a sandwich, pear, and a carton of milk. Suddenly famished, she dug in.

Mulder pulled a large red apple from his pocket. "So, anything new or unusual come up?"

In between bites of the thick turkey sandwich and sips of ice cold milk, Scully filled him in.

"No. Cyanide seems to be the drug of choice. The mutilations were all done post-mortem, thankfully." She admitted that if any of the victims had had implants in life, there was no evidence of it in death. "But we continue to go over each body with a fine-toothed comb. We know that the bodies were moved after death - we just don't know from where. On a more positive note, we only have 2 more bodies and then we're done."

At that moment, Agent Jamison ran in. "Hey, Mulder! We found a receipt from one of those U-haul places. It's from Billings, Montana dated 4 days before the bodies were found."

"Where the hell was it?" Mulder demanded.

"We were bringing in the last 2 victims and found it underneath the body. Probably fell out of the murderer's pocket. It didn't appear to be planted or hidden," he responded. "Also, none of the victims were from anywhere near Billings."

"Go get Skinner on the horn. I'll be right there," Mulder said tersely. He waited until the younger agent was out of sight before turning back to his partner. "You okay, Scully?" He asked softly, searching her face worriedly,

and resisting the urge to stroke her pale cheek.

"Much better. Thanks. Really. Now go on and let me finish up." She smiled warmly, clasping his hand reassuringly, and then watched him go. (Please,) she thought, (please let this be the end.)

Mulder filled Skinner in on their latest findings. Suddenly things began to move very quickly as a team was sent to the U-haul.

Meanwhile, Scully finished the 44th autopsy. The last one. The paperwork was complete. The body had been processed and packaged. Mulder's notification/ interview team had finished 2 hours earlier. As she walked out of the morgue, she was surprised to find that night had fallen. The full moon was rising over the trees. She glanced down at her watch. 9:15. She sighed heavily. She hadn't seen or heard from Mulder since he had left her to call Skinner and had lost all track of time. Looking around, she saw a large group milling about the mess tent and command center. She sighed again. So tired. So very, very tired. She knew she should eat but she just didn't have the energy. She had to literally force herself to go to the shower before climbing into bed, knowing that she'd feel better after rinsing off.

Twenty minutes later, she was tucked snugly in her cot and sound asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Earlier, Mulder had hung up the phone in utter disbelief.

Shocked. Stunned.

Actually, words failed him. As he waited for Skinner's fax to come through, he reviewed what he'd been told. The investigation was complete. The responsible party identified. The motive revealed. He was barely able to acknowledge Skinner's praise for a job well done. He hadn't done anything. But now, everyone was being shipped out in the morning to rest and recover. Everyone else was being sent home.

"Mulder," Skinner had said, "I'm sending you and Agent Scully to Lake Tahoe for a brief consult before you return home. The police chief needs a little direction and rather than sending the case file to you here, I'm sending you to him. You're not on the team - just read the reports, offer your views, and then check into the Embassy Suites on the South Shore - Government's expense. You've got 4 days to get some well-deserved rest and relaxation. I don't want to see you or Agent Scully back here for 1 week. Understood?"

"Yes sir," Mulder mumbled, still shell-shocked.

"A rental car is being brought in for you tonight. Take your time driving out there. Enjoy the scenery," Skinner told him.

"Yes sir," Mulder repeated dully. "Thank you, sir."

"Take care, Fox," Skinner said before hanging up.

Walter Skinner removed his glasses and stared vacantly across his desk. He was thankful this case was over but he was deeply concerned about Mulder and Scully. They were beaten - physically and mentally. He knew the whole team out there had been through hell, but only Mulder and Scully had the emotional entanglement to intensify the effect. It was obvious. He saw it every time he read one of their field reports. The true extent of just how hard these 2 agents pushed themselves left him in awe. They would definitely need time to recover from this case: the ending was just too horrific. And it hit way too close to home.

He stared down at the evidence bag on his desk. There wasn't any way he was going to tell Mulder that they had found the implants at Spender's house. He thought it indicative of the shock that Mulder was experiencing that he didn't ask about them. (It could wait,) he thought despondently. He was right: Spender wasn't going anywhere.

Mulder planted himself in front of the fax machine waiting for the transmission to complete. Finally he gathered the papers and returned to his tent, grateful that his roommates were out. He settled back to read the diary of Jeffrey Spender.

Since Cassandra Spender's disappearance at Ruskin Dam, Mulder had surreptitiously and sporadically been keeping tabs on the man who gave up his job in the FBI. The disappearance of his mother under such mysterious conditions left him too emotionally handicapped to continue as an agent. Mulder berated himself for losing track of Spender, allowing him to be lulled by the younger man's apparent inactivity. He compared the dates with his own activities. To his dismay, he realized that it had been almost 4 months since he'd checked on Spender.

The week before the anniversary of his mother's disappearance he and Scully had been on assignment in North Texas. Immediately upon their return to Washington he had been subpoenaed as an expert witness.

That damn trial. Time spent on research and preparation and testimony. (How could I let the anniversary of Cassandra's probable abduction go by without checking on him?)

The diary before him gave a gruesome, graphic and explicit description of every aspect of Spender's operation. Reading the diary, Mulder knew he was reading one man's descent into insanity. Luring the MUFON members, going through his mother's files and obtaining member addresses, the how, the why, and his own personal thoughts as he slaughtered and mutilated 44 innocent people.

On the surface, Mulder knew he wasn't responsible. But deep down he knew that he would always feel guilty for letting Spender slip through the cracks. And now the former agent was dead. Skinner had said the body was found at his mother's house, probably cyanide.

"No note," Skinner reported, obviously shaken, "Just the diary."

Mulder finished reading the diary and carefully packed it away. All his psychological expertise was failing him right now, just when he needed it most. After speaking with so many grief-stricken families, seeing the decaying, butchered bodies and knowing he had worked with the son-of-a-bitch

that did it...

Abruptly he stormed out of the tent and was about to barge into Scully's when common sense reigned him in. It was 10:45. Her tent was dark. (Oh, God,) he thought helplessly. Scully's exhausted - she needed to sleep. But he needed her. Right now. He needed her comfort. He needed her reassurance. He felt powerless to help himself. He was weak right now. He knew it. He knew he just couldn't do this alone.

He stepped into her tent and by the light of the space heater, turned on the lantern. The sight before him brought him to his knees. Mesmerized, he stared down at the ethereal vision that was his partner. Her sleep seemed peaceful tonight. Breathlessly, he ran his fingers through the silken strands of hair fanned across the pillow then caressed her smooth cheek. Without warning, a sob escaped his lips, causing Scully to stir. Mulder struggled to get his emotions under control, but his weakened defenses would not let him hold back the tears.

Scully moaned softly. Sleep beckoned her seductively with sweet promises of serenity. But something was calling her away from slumber. Something urged her from that safe haven. Something...someone...

"Mulder?" she whispered in confusion.

Mulder looked over as Scully's blue eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the soft light. The sight of Mulder's tear-stained face startled her and she was instantly fully awake.

"What's wrong? Mulder - what's happened?" she asked as she pulled herself to a sitting position. "Did you have another nightmare?"

He shook his head. "Scully -," he floundered, not really knowing how to proceed.

Scully watched him, not understanding what was wrong and as a result, not knowing what to say. So she waited; offering him silent encouragement and support.

Mulder sensed it and gathered his courage to continue. "Look, I'm really, really sorry to wake you, but I thought you should know that we're done. We know who killed these people."

Scully steeled herself because, judging by Mulder's face and tone, this was going to be bad. Really bad. She swallowed hard and set her jaw. "Who, Mulder?" she asked quietly, taking his hands in hers. "Who was it?"

"Jeffrey Spender," he said, nearly choking on his words.

Scully's hands clenched convulsively and other than a sharp intake of breath, she remained still. A voice in her head would not be silent though, and kept repeating (no no no no no no no...)

Mulder swallowed. "When Skinner told me I just – I couldn't - " Unable to go on, he simply shook his head, unwilling to release Scully's hands.

Scully, too, was at a loss for words to express the utter disbelief, and Mulder watched her reaction that surely mirrored his own. She struggled to comprehend what Mulder told her. That a former colleague had lured 44 people to their deaths and mutilated them and dumped their bodies in the middle of nowhere! It just was NOT possible! Not only that - it wasn't even conceivable! Her brain was absolutely refusing to process this information.

"I - I - just can't believe this. Why?" she implored Mulder, "Why?"

He could only shrug. "What it boils down to is that he blames MUFON for Cassandra's disappearance. He committed suicide. They found his body at his mother's. Skinner faxed me a copy of Spender's diary. It really goes into a lot of graphic detail but if you want to read it...," his voice trailed away.

Scully shuddered. "I don't know," she said, her voice low and barely audible. "Maybe later." She looked nauseated. (This was just incomprehensible.)

"Yeah," he muttered, then paused, still holding Scully's hands. "Listen, Scully, I - I have to ask you to do something for me."

Scully cocked an inquiring eye at her partner, who again was having difficulty meeting her gaze. "What is it, Mulder?" (Now what?) she thought trying to prepare herself for whatever he might say.

"I really need you to tell me that this isn't my fault," he stammered.

(That did it) Scully thought desperately. (I can't deal with this. I can't. How could this possibly be Mulder's fault? How?) She felt her over-stressed sanity threatening to mutiny. "Mulder, please," she moaned painfully. "What

are you talking about?" (This was too much,) she thought helplessly, (I just can't handle this, too. Not after everything that's happened here.)

"I had been keeping tabs on Spender," Mulder admitted. "You know, nothing too deep, nothing illegal. Anyway, maybe I should have seen this coming; maybe I could have done something... anything."

Scully simply stared up at him, her thoughts reeling. She felt positively dizzy. Mulder remained silent, shoulders slumped, head bowed, awaiting punishment. He wondered what was going through his partner's mind and part of him was afraid to find out.

After several minutes of silence, Scully jumped to her feet, dragging Mulder with her. She released his hands and grabbed the front of his T-shirt, pulling him down so that his startled face was inches from hers.

"No way, Mulder," she hissed, furiously, "No way. Absolutely NOT. I am telling you right here and right now that I am NOT letting you blame yourself in any way, shape or form. I am not about to let you torture yourself with what-if and what might have been. Why don't you just blame me for not disappearing at Ruskin Dam and then maybe Cassandra would be safe and none of this would have happened?"

Mulder flinched; his heart nearly stopped at the thought of that scenario, but Scully barreled on. "So you just drop it, Fox Mulder. Do you hear me? If I mean anything at all to you- anything at all - let - it - go." She paused to take a breath. "I mean it, Mulder," she warned him, her voice losing its strength. "Let it go."

Mulder stared down at his petite partner, glaring up at him, her blue eyes blazing, her mouth set in a determined line. He was totally taken aback by the vehemence in her voice and it effectively managed to assuage the guilt that threatened to permeate his thoughts.

"Gee, thanks, Scully," he said faintly. "I guess I needed that." He shook his head. "So would this be your version of 'tough love'?" he asked with just the barest hint of amusement.

Through a roaring in her ears, Scully felt her knees give out as she sank slowly to the ground, her hands releasing Mulder's shirt to fall limply to her side. Mulder caught her easily and before she could protest, scooped her up and sat her back on her cot.

"Scully?" he asked concerned, his chest tight, keeping one arm around her. "Are you all right?" (What have I done?) he thought fearfully.

Scully bent forward, her head in her hands. "Oh God, Mulder," she groaned, her voice slightly muffled. "Don't you ever scare me like that again. I honestly thought you were going to blame yourself for this. I - I just couldn't deal with that, too. I couldn't. I already feel like a trip to a psych ward wouldn't be half bad right now." She choked back a sob, her head spinning.

Mulder felt lower than low as he sat down next to her. She allowed him to pull her close, cradling her head on his chest.

"I'm sorry, Scully, really I am. I'll be okay. I promise," he whispered, his lips in her hair, the strands tickling his nose. "I know it's not really my fault. I just wish I could have seen something - anything to have prevented this. And for your information, you mean everything to me. You know that."

Scully just wrapped her arms around him, and hugged him tightly. The minutes ticked by as Mulder let the soothing sensations of her touch heal his tortured psyche.

How long they stayed that way, neither could say. Instead they just reveled in the unfamiliar sensations that washed over them, being in each other's arms.

"I do have some good news," he said lightly, continuing to hold her close. "Skinner is sending us to Lake Tahoe to consult briefly on some case out there - you know, review notes, offer opinions but that's it. After that, he said, we're to spend 4 days recuperating at the government's expense.

Scully's head snapped up. "You're kidding," she breathed, dumbstruck.

"Nope. 4 days paid vacation at Lake Tahoe. Well, room and board anyway," he said with a grin.

"Doesn't matter," Scully retorted happily, savoring the news. "A real bed," she said dreamily, "a real shower, real food." (Their salvation,) she prayed.

Mulder couldn't help but smile at the way her whole face seemed to light up, as if she was already there. (This is going to be perfect,) he couldn't help but think.

"I checked the map. It's about an eight-hour trip, with a town halfway. I thought that maybe we could split the drive. Skinner's having a car brought up," he said.

"That would be great," Scully said, thinking how relaxing it would be: a chance to unwind; put this case behind them, the open road, beautiful fall scenery, no real deadline. In fact, just what the doctor ordered.

"Can I drive first?" she asked eagerly.

"Whatever you want," Mulder replied and pulled out the map he had gotten from Major Thompson and set it on the small table. He gently eased her back and tucked her in. "But first get some sleep." He leaned over and tenderly kissed her forehead. "Sweet dreams, Scully," he whispered. He turned off the lantern and backed out.

"Good night, Mulder," Scully called groggily after him. She snuggled under the covers, refusing to think about Jeffrey Spender. She'd deal with that later. Instead she thought about Lake Tahoe...and Mulder.

Mulder crawled in to his own cot. (A disaster averted,) he thought distantly as he drifted off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The next morning was bright and sunny. As Scully ran her brush through her damp auburn hair, she reviewed the report she was about to send to Skinner via modem. She had 20 minutes before the phone lines went down and she wanted to make sure she had covered everything. With a sigh, she finally pushed send.

She lay back on her cot, rubbing bloodshot eyes that still saw dead body after dead body. The sheer mental exhaustion was like nothing she had ever experienced. A soft moan escaped her lips. (Jeffrey Spender.) She didn't think it would ever sink in. (My God. I worked with him.)

But, now it was over. This case was finally over. Now all that was left was to pack her things. She looked around the tent that she had called home, well, not home, she amended. Shelter. She wanted to make sure that she left nothing behind. As she closed her suitcase, she smiled. She still couldn't believe that she and Mulder were headed for Lake Tahoe. It would mean shopping for clothes, but this was definitely worth the added expense.

"Dr. Scully."

Lost in her own thoughts, she started violently at the sound of an unfamiliar voice just outside.

(Get a grip, Dana,) she berated herself as she went to the flap and pulled it back to reveal a young man in an Army Corps uniform. He was nervously clutching at his hat and with his pale blonde hair and wide blue eyes, he looked about 16 years old. This, despite his height of 6'2".

Scully kept her face neutral. "Yes, Private?" She prompted, when he continued to just stand there staring down at her.

"Uh - Ma'am - the Major sent me to tell you we're - that is - we'll be taking your tent down in 30 minutes," he finally managed to get out.

Scully opened her mouth to respond when the young man suddenly flushed beet red. "I mean only if you're ready, Ma'am. If you need more time..." He was babbling.

Scully held up her hand to silence the poor boy before he fell apart. "It's okay, Private. I'm almost done." She took pity on him as he stared down at her, again unable to move. He seemed to be noticing that she was dressed in her blue jeans and a blue silk blouse instead of the shapeless scrubs she'd been wearing over thermals.

"Was there something else, Private?" She asked gently, more than just a bit flattered by the frank admiration, despite being called "ma'am".

The private came to quick attention. "Oh - uh - no, Ma'am!" and with an abrupt about-face, he beat a hasty retreat, almost knocking down Mulder, who had stepped up behind him unseen.

"So, Scully, breaking young men's hearts again, I see," he smirked.

"Very funny, Mulder," she snapped to mask her embarrassment as she turned away to finish her packing.

Mulder stepped inside, staring at his partner as she moved about. He didn't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out what was going through the kid's head. The blue silk of Scully's blouse matched her eyes perfectly, complimenting the auburn hair that softly framed her small face. With her porcelain skin and lush lips that he longed to cover with long, slow languid kisses...He gave himself a mental shake to bring himself back to his senses. Scully was talking to him.

"What?" he asked all innocence, realizing that she had been talking to him for a couple of minutes while he fantasized.

"I said: would you mind taking the laptop to the car?" She was staring at him, hands on her hips.

"What?" he repeated, knowing perfectly well, but wanting to maintain some semblance of dignity.

"I'm just wondering what's going though that so-call mind of yours. As if I didn't know," she said suspiciously.

"Nothing!" Mulder declared, meeting her gaze with his hazel eyes purposefully wide.

Scully shook her head. "Oh no you don't. Don't give me the 'soulful puppy dog' look," she admonished him, even as her heart melted.

"Why?" Mulder asked with a devilish gleam in his eyes. "Does it turn you on?"

Scully's jaw dropped as she felt her cheeks flame. After a moment's pause, she again shook her head, keeping her eyes averted. "Please, Mulder, the laptop."

"Sure, Scully, I'm going." He grabbed the portable computer and quickly made his escape, barely keeping from laughing. The best defense was a good offense and he had definitely scored on that last one. It felt so good to get back to their Game. He wanted nothing more than to get past all this and back to some sense of normalcy.

Scully sank to the cot, her head in her hands, trying to cool her burning cheeks. That puppy dog look. It got her every single time. But the electrical current that coursed through her like liquid fire was definitely new. Usually she had better control. Did it turn her on? (God, yes,) she thought helplessly, followed by (What am I doing? What am I thinking!)

Quickly she stood up and poured herself a glass of water from the carafe she kept at her bedside. She gulped half and splashed the rest on her face. (Better. Much better.) She grabbed her suitcase and hurried out.

Mulder was waiting for her at the car and without a word, took her suitcase and put it in the trunk. "Do you still want to take the first leg?" He asked carefully, so as not to sound patronizing.

"Yeah," Scully answered, studying the map carefully. "I'm kind of wired right now." She looked up to see Mulder staring at her, one eyebrow raised, a smirk on his lips.

"Three cups of coffee will do that," she hastened to clarify, unwittingly giving him more ammunition.

"Right," Mulder said knowingly, infuriating Scully on purpose. He was definitely on a roll.

Scully sighed heavily. (Just get me out of here,) she silently begged the heavens above, (Please.) She was too far behind in the Game today and knew she had little chance of catching up.

"You know, there's probably not too many rest stops along our route," Mulder supplied helpfully.

"Would you just get in the car, Mulder?" Scully cried, exasperated.

Laughing, Mulder threw up his hands in surrender and got in.

Scully roughly folded the map and resisted the urge to burn rubber as they drove off.

After 20 miles of silence, Scully surreptitiously looked over at her partner.

(Lucky for him,) she thought wrathfully, (that he's asleep.) Casting her eyes back to the road, she exhaled with a huff. She knew she wasn't mad at him, not really. She was mad at herself. (How could I be mad at him? Look at him.) In sleep, he always looked so vulnerable; untouched by the horrors they'd both been through.

She huffed again. (Why do you let him get you?) She asked herself.

(Because you like it,) her self replied promptly. And, truth be told; she did.

As the miles flew by, Scully felt herself begin to unwind. She concentrated on the road, refusing to even think about the past 10 days. Every so often she would look longingly over at Mulder, who incredibly slept on. (This must be some kind of record,) she thought. It had been almost 4 hours and he had barely moved.

She marveled at how completely relaxed he was. She had seen him sleep before, but this was obviously much deeper. This was unconscious. Only his steady, even breathing reassured her and kept her from checking his pulse. She was, however, unable to keep from brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, wishing that she could just pull the car over and crawl into his arms.

The desolate highway unwound as they moved through Nevada to Lake Tahoe. Scully had never been and was anxious to see if it was as spectacular as the pictures.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

By the time they arrived at the halfway point, Scully was barely able to keep her eyes open. Although she had slept well last night, it wasn't nearly enough. She caught sight of a diner that looked clean and homey and a gas station on the opposite corner. She decided to get the gas first and was surprised when Mulder slept on. With an almost maternal smile, she got out, pumped the gas and went into the station to pay. She got some ice for their small cooler and some bottles of water, then on impulse, a bag of sunflower seeds for Mulder. He was probably suffering from serious withdrawal by now. When she got back in the car, Mulder, unbelievably, continued to sleep on. Shaking her head in amazement, she pulled into the diner. Again, she stopped the car and turned off the engine. Shifting around in her seat to face her partner, she reached over and touched his shoulder.

"Mulder - Mulder, wake up." Nothing. She nudged him. "Come on, Mulder, let's go." Still, no response. Pouring one of the bottles of water on him briefly came to mind. She rejected that idea almost instantly: paybacks were hell.

"Mulder!" She called out. "Mulder - wake - up!" She took his face in her hands and awkwardly pulled him up. "Come on, Mulder!"

Finally, he came around. "Okay - okay. I'm up," he mumbled groggily.

"Open your eyes," Scully demanded.

"I'm working on it," he said drowsily and yawned.

Scully rolled her eyes.

Finally he looked out the window, squinting at the bright sunlight. "Where are we?" he asked as he rubbed his face.

"Half way there," she announced. "It's your turn to drive.'

He peered out at the diner. "Looks like a nice place. I'm starved!" Quickly he got out of the car, leaving Scully to catch up.

Scully's feet dragged as she followed him in. She was so tired; more tired than she could ever remember being.

When they entered the small diner, a pleasant-faced woman in a frilly white apron greeted them. "Welcome to Harvest Home. Will it be just the two of you?" she asked.

"Yes, Ma'am,' Mulder answered, his mouth positively watering as the aromas from the kitchen filled his senses.

Even Scully found herself waking up at the thought of sampling one of the pies on display.

For once, Mulder didn't tease her when she ordered what was for her a large meal. He was too happy to see her eat. They had both lost weight since coming out here and could really use a real home-cooked meal.

While their food was prepared, Mulder went to put some coins in the jukebox and Scully excused herself to freshen up.

She returned to their table to find him absently tapping in time to the music. Frowning slightly, she tried to figure out what they were listening to. It was definitely western, but old.

"I didn't know you liked this type of music," she commented. "Is that Patsy Cline?"

Mulder shrugged. "Beggars can't be choosers. Besides, it was this or Willie Nelson."

Scully wrinkled her nose. "Okay. I take it back. This is great."

"I thought you might see it that way," Mulder stated, matter of factly as their food arrived.

No words were spoken as the 2 agents dug in, polishing off more food in one sitting than 5 or 6 previous ones combined. The food was absolutely delicious and their waitress couldn't help but smile as she watched them eat.

Mulder returned from the men's room to find his partner asleep sitting up; her head propped on one arm.

"Am I going to have to carry you to the car?" he inquired as he sat down, actually hoping that he could.

Scully's head snapped up. "I'm awake."

"Yeah, right," Mulder laughed. "I thought you were going to drown in your pie."

Scully blushed. "Sorry," she muttered, as she reached for her iced tea.

He just grinned, relishing the fantasy of Dana Scully in his arms. "Finish up and we'll head out. Lake Tahoe awaits." He was really looking forward to hitting the open road.

She managed a couple more bites before sleep threatened to overtake her again. Mulder quickly paid the bill and guided her out to the car. She literally crawled into the front seat and got her seatbelt fastened.

"Here," Mulder offered her his folded coat. "It makes a pretty good pillow."

"Thanks," Scully said with a smile that caused Mulder's heart to beat just a little faster. She curled up in a ball; the scent of her partner filled her nostrils. A small secret smile touched her lips as she fell asleep almost immediately. Mulder reached into the back seat to retrieve Scully's coat and tenderly draped it over her before continuing their journey.

As he drove along the desolate mountain road, Mulder realized that he had not seen a single car since leaving the diner over 2 hours ago. He checked the odometer and by his calculation, figured it was another 100 miles to Lake Tahoe.

As Scully continued to sleep, he daydreamed about all the things he'd like for them to do at the beautiful resort. While he knew they wouldn't be staying at a 5-star hotel, almost anything would be a major improvement over a drafty tent and lumpy cot. He intended to make this a vacation to remember since it was something they both needed in the worst possible way.

He looked over at Scully and smiled. The sight of her sleeping soundly drove all the shocking memories of the past ten days away. With the setting sun now shining through his side window, Mulder was able to get a good, uninterrupted look at her. He was troubled, seeing her porcelain skin pale to the point of translucency, emphasizing the dark circles under her eyes that spoke volumes of her exhaustion. (Then again, I don't look so great myself,) he muttered softly. A quick peek in the rearview mirror confirmed that observation.

It was almost dark now. The trees cast long shadows on the ridge road. Mulder did not see a pothole on the right and the resultant jolting of the car make him hiss in frustration. He looked over and saw to his dismay that Scully was awake.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, as his partner stretched, unable to hide her discomfort.

"It's okay," she said, none too convincingly. "Are we almost there?"

Mulder groaned inwardly and said a silent prayer that she wouldn't kill him. "Depends. Do you call 75 miles 'almost'?" he asked hopefully.

Scully rolled her eyes, but literally bit back the sharp retort that almost crossed her lips. She knew Mulder didn't intentionally wake her. Though she was still half-asleep and not thinking completely clearly, she did know that she wasn't up to an argument.

Mulder noticed her restraint and breathed a sigh of relief, feeling even more guilty.

"Are you thirsty?" Scully questioned him. "I picked up some water earlier."

"That would be great," he said eagerly. "If it's not too much trouble," he hastened to add. "And before I forget, thanks for getting the sunflower seeds."

Scully smiled warmly and Mulder felt the familiar tug at his heart that her smile never failed to elicit. He knew he'd move heaven and earth to see that smile every day for the rest of his life. She reached behind, into the backseat, but was unable to get a hold of the small cooler. With an exasperated grunt, she undid her seatbelt, pushing herself up and partially over the seat.

"Can you get it?" Mulder asked. He still felt guilty for waking her and was honestly trying to be helpful. He could hear rustling behind him. "Do you need me to pull over?"

In response, Scully slid back into her seat and proudly displayed 2 small bottles.

"Thanks," Mulder said, with a grin as he relished the memory of Scully's petite frame draped over the seat. He reached over to take the bottle she held out for him.

Suddenly, Scully shouted, "Mulder - WATCH OUT!"

Mulder jerked his gaze back to the road and saw the large blurred figure of a moose and the flash of a pair of eyes frozen in the headlights directly in front of the car. He slammed on the brakes and the tires on their rental car skied across a slick coating of fallen leaves. The car slewed, slowed, but continued forward like a racecar, barely under control.

Next to him, Scully had locked her arms on the dash; silent in horror. As the car continued to fight for traction, she glanced to her right and instantly broke into a terrified, icy sweat. Mulder was riding the edge of a drop-off; a high slope of rocks and trees. The brakes and tires screamed loud enough to hurt their ears. The acrid smell of burning rubber filled the car, nearly choking them.

The huge animal tried to leap away at the last instant, but the Taurus bumper struck it with a bone-jarring crunch. It sent the car over the embankment and it flipped end over end, sliding down the steep slope before smashing into a massive spruce.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Smoke.

It was the second thing Scully was aware of.

Pain was the first. When she opened her eyes, she had to blink several times before realizing that there wasn't anything wrong with her vision.

Smoke.

Fire.

Mulder!

In that instant, the fact that she had nearly been ejected from the car was unimportant. The fact that she was injured didn't matter. What did matter was that the car was on fire and if she was lying on the hood of it, then Mulder was probably unconscious somewhere. She pushed herself up, ignoring her body that screamed in agony and crawled off the car. She braced her chest wall, which seemed to hurt the worst, and prayed it was only bruised.

(I have to get to Mulder,) she repeated to herself like a mantra. (I have to get to Mulder.)

Holding on to the crumpled hood for support, she staggered over to the driver's side to find her partner slumped over the steering wheel, which was covered with his blood. As soon as she determined that he was alive, terror-induced adrenaline coursed through her veins, taking control of her. The fire was getting closer to the gas tank - the heat stronger - the smoke thicker. It didn't faze her. She knew she had to get him out; only dimly sensing the danger through the waves of pain hammering her.

Later, she would remember the next five minutes in a series of images, emotions, and sensations. Prying the door open, blinded by the smoke, the burning in her nose and throat, her lungs feeling like they were going to explode with each choking cough. Then, her whole focus on Mulder.

She rechecked his pulse: rapid but steady. She felt the sticky warmth of his blood oozing from the gash at his hairline. Pushing him back to reach and release his seatbelt, she tried unsuccessfully to waken him. With a superhuman effort, she was able to pull his 6-foot frame close to her own body, backing away, so that he slid down to the ground. She tried to drag him by holding him under his arms but the agony in her chest wall prevented that move.

Instead, she took him by the wrists and depended on her stronger leg muscles to haul him inch by inch until she was able to deposit him behind a huge boulder, almost 10 yards away.

Breathing hard, alarmed at how out of breath she was, she risked a glance at their car. Their coats were on the front seat. Without pausing to consider the consequences, she lurched back. All she could think was that they'd be victims of exposure if she didn't get either their coats or their suitcases. The latter seemed out of the question. Miraculously, she made it back to the boulder, crouching low to cover Mulder with his coat. As she struggled into her own, she realized that there still hadn't been an explosion. Gasping for each breath, Scully warily moved closer to the car.

(Maybe I can get the suitcases. Maybe it isn't going to blow,) she told herself. She managed almost 20 steps before her courage failed, common sense took over and she turned back. As her battered body lost the numbing effects of the pure adrenaline that had fueled her to this point, her movements became weaker and slower.

The explosion came without warning. Scully felt a warm push of air at her back and suddenly she was flying through the night. She landed awkwardly, tumbling further down the slope before sliding feet first into a narrow trench. Though she tried to pull herself out, there was nothing to hold on to and her body was too weak. With faint and clinical detachment, she knew she had broken her already bruised ribs. The pain she had successfully fought against would no longer be denied, but the darkness blessedly sucked her down to a place where not even the pain could follow and the cold could not touch.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Mulder lay in the darkness, listening to the sounds of the forest for a long time, just like he had for the past 10 days in a tent, on a cot.

But he wasn't in a tent. And he definitely wasn't on a cot.

He puzzled over this, as he became aware of a monstrous headache. Then, suddenly, he remembered the car crash.

(Scully!)

His eyes flew open - terror consumed him. "Scully!" he cried out, even as he struggled to pull himself to a sitting position. There was no answer. Pain in his back and neck pulsed through him and he groaned as he reached a hand up to his pounding head. His exploring fingers found a cut at the hairline over his left eye. He cringed at the feeling of congealed blood. He felt completely confused and disoriented.

(Why am I on the ground - not in the car?)

(Where was the car?)

(And where the hell was Scully?)

(And do I smell smoke?)

A quick glance at his watch gave him more disturbing news. 12:45am. Almost 6 hours gone! Refusing to succumb to the numbing effects of shock, he pulled himself to a standing position and came face to face with the burned hull of their car. Desperately felling off the darkness that pooled up behind his eyes, he struggled to understand.

(Where was Scully?)

He refused to believe that she had been in the car when it blew. (She just couldn't be. How else could I have ended up behind a boulder that had obviously shielded me from the blast? Where was she?)

His vision clouded by pain, Mulder almost didn't see her. When he did, he felt as if an ice-cold fist had plunged through his chest and had seized his heart in an arctic grip. For a moment, couldn't swallow, couldn't breathe, and couldn't think. Then he saw her head move slightly and he could breathe again - became aware.

Hobbling, slowed by the pain in his back that flowed through him in nearly debilitating waves, he stumbled down the embankment to where Scully lay.

His head was swimming, threatening his balance as he made his way to her, sinking to his knees. "Scully?" he said hopefully. "Scully, can you hear me?"

A soft moan indicated that she seemed to be regaining consciousness. Tenderly, he brushed away the strands of reddish-gold hair that covered her face.

"Scully," he murmured. "Come on, Scully, you can do it."

Another moan escaped her lips as her eyes slowly fluttered open. They glazed momentarily before focusing on Mulder's worried face. His satisfaction at seeing his partner alive and conscious was tempered by concern. Her upturned left cheek was swollen and abraded and there was dried blood on her lips.

"Mulder," she gasped, her arms pulling in as if to push herself up.

"Wait, Scully - stop," Mulder admonished her. "Wait. We wrecked. The car blew up. Do you remember that?"

Scully started to shake her head but thought better of that idea. Her entire body was stiff and sore and moving anything didn't hold any appeal.

"Scully?" Mulder watched her closely.

"The car exploded." She licked her lips, grimacing at the taste of dried blood.

"Yeah. You apparently went flying. Before we move you, can you tell if anything is broken? I don't want to cause further damage," he added.

"I - I don't know," Scully whimpered, biting back her tears. "I can't tell. Just - just let me get up."

Mulder rocked back on his heels. "Hold on." First he carefully ran his hands over her arms and shoulders. Finding nothing amiss, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay, Scully, I'm going to reach under your arms and lift you up. Let me know if I hurt you," he instructed her.

Scully nodded once. As Mulder gently but firmly gripped her upper arms, she braced herself. She remembered her broken ribs, but knew there was no other way out of the trench. True to form, she kept quiet.

Mulder took a deep breath and pulled. As light as Scully was, his back and neck screamed in protest. When a sharp cry burst from Scully's lips, he nearly lost his grip on her. "What's wrong? What is it?" he cried, freezing with her halfway out of the trench.

She gritted her teeth. "Just - just a spasm. It'll pass."

Panting with the exertion, Mulder still hesitated. Scully bit her lip and put more strength in her voice. "Don't worry. Just get me out of here," she begged him.

Mulder knew she was hiding something and as soon as he got her up, he intended to find out what it was. Carefully, he adjusted his hold on her and pulled. Another lance of agony stabbed her in the chest and she again cried out, but somehow managed to get her feet under her. Mulder stepped in front of her and she held on to him with both hands, shaking with cold and torturous pain. Mulder took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him.

"Where are you hurt, Scully?" he demanded. (Don't you even think of hiding anything from me,) his look plainly said.

She struggled to catch her breath as he stood before her, hunched slightly because of his aching back. She opened her mouth but nothing came out.

"Breathe, Scully." Mulder pleaded. "Come on, talk to me."

"I - I've got some broken ribs," she said almost too softly for him to hear. "I - I need to catch my breath. I'll - I'll be okay." She was shivering violently now.

He led her to a fallen log and sat her down. "Scully, I'm sorry." He knew it must be worse that she would admit. As usual. He looked up at their car. "We had a first aid kit in the glove compartment. Let me see if anything is salvageable." Scully simply nodded, panting.

When Mulder returned a few minutes later, he proudly displayed an elastic wrap, one bottle of water, 2 gauze wraps and one banged-up but functional flashlight. He was pleased to see that Scully was breathing a little easier and the panicky look in her eyes that comes with air-hunger was almost gone.

She managed a wry grin. "Not bad, Mulder. I was hoping you'd find something for me to wrap on that cut you've got. Come here and let me see."

Mulder allowed her to examine him, knowing it gave her something to focus on beside herself. He would do that for her for now.

"Well, Doc, my vision has cleared considerably and I only feel nauseous if I move too quickly." He let her clean the cut the best she could and wrap the gauze around his head securely.

Scully's movements were slow and awkward as she finished examining her partner. "I'm hopeful that you only have a concussion and not a skull fracture. I saw on my watch that we were out for a while." She stared at him closely. "You're really pale."

"Have you looked in a mirror lately?" Mulder retorted good-naturedly.

Scully managed a wan smile and shook her head.

"Don't." he said trying not to worry her. "But your cheek is really swollen. Can you tell if it's broken?"

Gingerly, Scully ran her fingers along her cheek and jaw. "I don't think so," she finally answered as Mulder breathed a sigh of relief. She checked Mulder's bandage to make sure there was no more active bleeding. "Well, I guess it will have to do. How bad is your back?"

"Nothing a little stretching won't cure," He replied lightly, refusing to add to her worry.

Scully looked up at him sadly. "I wish I had something to give you for the pain. I can tell it's pretty bad."

"Thanks, Doc. But now it's my turn," he said with a playful smile to hide his apprehension.

He helped Scully as she pulled herself up on wobbly legs, bracing her chest with her right arm. She gingerly shrugged her coat off as Mulder unwrapped the elastic wrap. She saw it was only a 4 inch and for once was thankful to be petite. A 6 inch would have been better. "You're going to have to make it tight - smooth," she instructed him.

"Got it," Mulder confirmed as he reached forward and prepared to envelope Scully's torso, but she stopped him.

Despite the pain, she managed to tease him. "Get ready, G- man, I'm about to make your day." Mulder stared up at her in confusion. "I've got to get the shirt off, too. Otherwise the wrap will slide on the silk and not do any good."

Then he saw what she meant. Her hands shaking with the cold, she fumbled with the buttons until she was able to get the blouse off. The site of the massive bruise covering Scully's lower chest instantaneously erased any thoughts of her fulfilling his fantasies by undressing before him. Scully gasped even as Mulder's eyes widened in horror. The sight of the black and blue mark marred the creamy perfection of her skin.

"Ouch. God, Scully, are you sure you don't have any internal injuries?" he asked, tentatively reaching one hand out to explore the injury. He knew that the pain must be excruciating.

"Ouch doesn't even begin to cover it," Scully said, feeling a little sick as she resolutely turned her eyes away. "And I don't know about internal injuries," she continued, her teeth chattering, "but if you don't hurry, I'm going to be frozen solid."

"Oh - sorry," Mulder muttered in apology, his own fingers cold and numb. He knelt before her and got the elastic wrapped snuggly a couple of times. "How's this?" he asked.

Despite the cold, Scully had suddenly broken out in a sweat, her hands on Mulder's shoulders holding on with a death grip. "G-g-good," she stuttered, "k-k-keep g-g-going."

When he was finished, the elastic wrap provided a firm brace from just below her bra to her waist. Mulder quickly got Scully back into her blouse and coat. He carefully pulled her close, rubbing her arms, trying to generate some heat. She groaned softly.

"Scully?" Mulder stepped back, never letting her go and watched her closely.

She, in turn, focused on his eyes. She stared deep into their hazel depths; so filled with pain and fear. She went deeper; drawing on the strength and determination she knew to be there. She took a slow deep breath. The movement sent a fresh surge of agony through her chest causing her to grimace. She took another hesitant breath, her eyes never leaving Mulder's, who worriedly held her gaze.

He felt her pain as acutely as if it was his own. Wishing he could do something - anything, he simply held on.

Finally she spoke, "I'm okay," she managed through clenched teeth. "Thanks."

"That's a lie," he whispered without malice. Scully looked sheepish.

"You know what I mean," she murmured. Mulder nodded.

Scully knew her lung capacity was severely diminished, but the pain was somewhat more bearable and the feeling of her bones grinding together almost gone. She felt relatively stable but she knew it was a fragile stability: a house of cards that could tumble at any moment. She took a step and looked over, seeing for the first time what was left of their car. "I guess we should be thankful that we're alive."

Mulder came up behind her and wrapped his arms tentatively around her. "I know I am. In fact, if you hadn't pulled me out..." He was nearly overcome with gratitude that she continued to risk her life for his and he felt totally unworthy.

Scully shook her head. "Just doing my job, Mulder. You would have done the same thing."

Mulder turned her around and tipped her chin up. "That's not the point and you know it."

Scully dropped her gaze, her bottom lip trembled. She was becoming overwhelmed as she realized how close she had come to losing him. "I - I thought you were going to die. I - I know how fire - I -I couldn't let you - but I didn't know if I could get far enough away - in time -and - you - you-" She was nearly incoherent, hysterical and she knew it, but felt impotent to fight it. Her breath hitched painfully in her chest.

Then, Mulder dipped his head and impulsively kissed her. Scully froze when she felt Mulder's lips brush hers, feather-light. Her eyes wide, she stared up at him as his eyes met hers. He had a faintly bemused look on his face.

"Now what were you saying?" he asked innocently.

"I - I forget," Scully replied, weakly, her thoughts in a turmoil. She didn't know if the difficulty she had in catching her breath was related to the trauma or the kiss.

"Good," he said with a grin. "If I'd known I had that effect, I'd have tried it a long time ago."

Scully shook her head, her lips quirked, wondering if he was serious and trying to decide if that would be a good thing. (I can't think about that now,) she thought. (I can't.) The pain she was fighting continued to occupy her thoughts, leaving little room for anything else. Unable to stop her tears, she eased her arms back around Mulder, who after a moment's hesitation, carefully held her.

He ignored the dull pain that throbbed the length of his back, concentrating instead on how small and frail his partner seemed in his arms.

(My partner.) He would never take back that kiss, but how did Scully really feel about it. (This wasn't the time or the place,) he thought regretfully. (Later.)

"Scully," he whispered with a catch in his voice. He wanted to say more but held back.

For several minutes, they stood there, wrapped in each others arms until Scully felt herself fading. "I.. have . . . to sit . . down.." she said thickly.

Alarmed, Mulder guided her back to the ground. Scully leaned gingerly back against the log, her eyes closed and her face so pale in the moonlight. As Mulder watched her closely, she tried to reassure him, but he wasn't buying it. Not when her breathing came in short ragged gasps. "Don't you want to lie down, Scully?" he suggested.

"I can't," she said simply.

Mulder clenched his jaw. He was able to get a fire going while Scully cleared an area for them to try and sleep. He caught her moving slowly and carefully, protecting her chest wall.

Searching through the wreckage in hopes of finding anything that would help them, he was disappointed to find nothing of use. He had brought his cell phone and while it was functional, the signal was too weak to send a call. Scully's had been in her suitcase that was demolished.

"Mulder," Scully called breathlessly.

He turned quickly, but stumbled when he became dizzy by the sudden movement.

"Mulder!" Scully cried.

"I'm okay, Scully," he said as he moved to her side. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

In response, she simply pointed up to an area behind him. The pain in his neck flared as he looked up and saw a large branch dangling above the spot he'd been standing. The explosion had nearly broken the massive limb that would have surely crushed him had it fallen.

"Thanks, Scully," he said, stunned, even as the branch suddenly chose that moment to let loose. He bent protectively over her as the limb rolled past them to the bottom of the embankment.

They carefully scanned the tree and surrounding area before staring at each other. (What else?) Their expressions said as clearly as if they'd spoken.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Mulder reluctantly opened his eyes, feeling like he had just gone to sleep. His watch was within his line of sight and a quick glance showed it was almost 8:00. It seemed unbelievable that they had been able to get any sleep at all after the crash. Realizing that Scully was still sleeping, he kept perfectly still. Despite the circumstances, he rather enjoyed having his head pillowed carefully on her lap. Worry, though, pushed to the forefront of awareness as he listened to her ragged breathing.

They couldn't stay here forever. Since the car had gone over the side of the road, it was unlikely to be found any time soon. Scully desperately needed medical attention, but realistically, how far could they hike in their condition? Should they stay or should they go? He continued to mull over possibilities, letting Scully sleep as long as she could, knowing she'd need all the rest she could get.

Suddenly, she coughed. The intense pain woke her instantly, without warning and she was unable to keep from crying out as her hands splinted her chest.

"Scully!' Mulder cried as he tried in vain to sit up. However, in the past few hours his back and neck had stiffened to the point of immobility. (So this is what whiplash feels like,) he thought distantly as he flailed his arms and legs to try and pull himself up.

Scully immediately realized the difficulty he was having and why. She placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Mulder-don't," she said, breathlessly. "Stop - please."

Startled, Mulder exhaled and became still.

Scully continued, "Be careful, Mulder. If you keep fighting like this, you're just going to hurt yourself and -" Abruptly she broke off.

Mulder, however, finished the sentence for her. "And you," he said grimly.

"Well, yes," Scully admitted ruefully. "Now lie still a minute." Gently she palpated his neck, feeling how tight the muscles were. Very slowly and very carefully she began to knead the knotted cords at his neck.

Mulder couldn't help but moan. "Oh - God, Scully," he groaned.

"Sssshh," Scully soothed as she continued working her fingers into the muscles.

Mulder moaned again as his arms and legs began to tingle with the return of warmth and circulation. He felt like he was somewhere between pain and ecstasy. That tiny voice in his head pointed out that if he weren't in so much pain, he'd really be in heaven right now.

He was able to wriggle slightly, allowing Scully to reach further past his collar, working the top of his shoulders and back. She couldn't help but smile at the sounds emanating from her partner nestled on her lap. She patiently and, seemingly tirelessly, continued her gentle but firm massage as she let her thoughts drift away, away from her own pain and fears. She focused all her thoughts and energy on Mulder...

Gradually he became more relaxed and Scully wondered if he was about to start purring, which gave her a pleasant mental image. Mulder tried to ignore the reaction the rest of his body was having to Scully's ministrations. Any other time...any other place...

Scully felt another cough tickling the back of her throat and swallowed several times in an effort to prevent it. When it became apparent that she wouldn't be able to, she braced her chest wall. The fire that exploded in her lungs managed to rip another hoarse cry from her lips.

Mulder stiffened. "Scully? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she gasped, blinking away the tears that clouded her vision.

Mulder wasn't buying it and in a moment of strength was able to lift himself to a sitting position. Instantly, he knew he'd made a terrible mistake. His rapid movement caused his head to swim as pain and nausea swept over him like a tidal wave and his hands flew up - ostensibly to keep his head from exploding.

"Mulder!" Scully cried out. (He's actually turning green!) She thought hysterically.

Frantically, Mulder pulled himself away from her and was able to throw himself over the log before his empty stomach heaved. Scully heard his violent retching and pushing past her own agony, managed to crawl over to him. Draped unceremoniously over the huge log, Mulder felt her hand on his back, supporting him and was grateful.

Scully watched him closely, silently, until he finally raised up, moving slowly and carefully. "Oh, Mulder..." she whispered as she lovingly brushed away the locks of hair that had fallen in his face. He was sweating in the cold morning air.

"I'll be okay," he muttered, seeing the anxiety written all over her face. And something else. "Just give me a minute."

"You have a concussion," she said, stating the obvious.

"Not the first time, partner," he quipped "and I'm sure it won't be the last."

"I know," she retorted sadly, eyes downcast. "That's what scares me."

Mulder smiled weakly. "I didn't think anything scared you, G-woman."

Scully quirked her lips and shook her head. Leave it to Mulder to try and joke his way out of this. She jumped slightly when he reached over to tenderly touch her left cheek, now horribly bruised and swollen.

"Are you sure it's not broken?" He asked, in concern.

Her fingers brushed his as she tried to ascertain the answer. "I don't know. Possibly, but I don't even feel that."

(Her ribs.) Mulder thought worriedly watching her breathe in short, shallow gasps. "How's the rib brace holding?"

"Good," she replied. Mulder just stared at her. She sighed. "Aren't we a pair?"

"Pair of what?" He joked. Then, he noticed her shivering. "Come on," he said as helped her back to her spot in front of the dwindling fire. "I guess we need to decide if we stay here or go off in search of help. Personally, I vote for staying here. Neither one of us is in any condition to go hiking through these woods."

Scully shook her head. "I agree that we're in pretty bad shape, but we aren't going to be able to stay here."

"Why not?" Mulder asked in confusion.

"A cold front will be here tonight. I heard it on the radio yesterday, while I was driving. Snow is expected. So, hiking will be difficult to say the least, but we have to keep moving. Shelter will have to be our top priority."

"Shit," Mulder growled in frustration. Scully was right. A campfire wouldn't protect them at all from a storm. Neither would the burned out hull of their car. He looked over at his partner, who was watching him expectantly, her eyes conveying the worry she felt and could not hide. "Scully, are you sure you can do this? I mean - don't get mad at me, I'm just..."

"Worried about me," she finished for him quietly. "I know, Mulder. I also know that you weren't being patronizing." She paused a moment before continuing. "I thought a lot about it while I was trying to get to sleep and I just don't think we can safely stay here."

"We can't 'safely' travel, either, you know," Mulder said darkly, unable to stop himself. He instantly regretted his words. (Why am I pointing out the obvious? Do we really need a self-fulfilling prophecy?) He thought, rubbing his aching neck.

Scully bit her lip and sadly shook her head. "Maybe you should go on and see if you can find help."

Mulder's head snapped up. "Not a chance in hell, Scully," he growled, "am I leaving you alone here."

"But Mulder," she argued, "you'd have a better chance of finding help and bringing it to me if I'm not holding you back."

"I told you once before, Scully: you don't hold me back." Mulder fought down his anger and fear. "And what happens if I get lost? Or I can't find the way back to you in time? What happens then?" he demanded hotly.

Scully looked stricken at the possibilities that hadn't occurred to her. Mulder backed off and caressed her uninjured cheek.

"I'm not leaving you, Scully. I'll never leave you," he vowed. He stared at her, catching her eyes and holding them.

Scully felt herself melt as the depth of his devotion washed over her and she knew that he wasn't just talking about right now. "I love you," she suddenly whispered, surprising herself and shocking the hell out of Mulder. She froze. (Was that me? Did I really just say that?) One look at Mulder's face answered that question without a doubt.

Mulder felt his hand fall to his side.

(Oh, God,) Scully thought, desperately wishing that she could take it back. (What have I done?) She clenched her jaw. She was not about to cry. She couldn't.

Mulder caught the sudden fear cloud Scully's face and knew immediately that she had misunderstood his reaction. Tenderly he reached back up to cup her face, forcing her to look at him. "Dana Scully - don't you know that I love you, too? I always have and I always will," he said passionately.

The tears came then. Two of them slid down her cheeks and Mulder gently brushed them away, nearly overcome with the pure love radiating from her eyes.''

"Now that we've got that settled, are you ready to go?" He asked, with a smile.

Mutely, Scully nodded. She would do this. If Mulder wasn't going to leave her here, she was determined to follow him no matter what. He stood up slowly and waited for the vertigo to pass before helping Scully to her feet.

Her face a deathly white, she desperately fought to stay upright. The only sound she made was her breathing, heavy and hoarse. "Ready," she said, struggling not to pant as she spoke. She didn't want to sound any weaker than she was.

Mulder swallowed and felt a trickle of unease. Grimly, he took her arm and together they made their way to the bottom of the embankment. The brushes were thicker and almost as tall as Scully, forcing Mulder to walk ahead to clear a path on the rocky, uneven terrain. He would have preferred to walk side by side, but he knew that he couldn't let her fall, lest her broken ribs cause further damage or even death.

By unspoken agreement and necessitated by their injuries, the pace was slow and cautious. Mulder was unable to turn and look at Scully due to the spasms in his neck and back, but he heard each and every labored, agonized breath that she took right behind him. Bushes sprang into his face. He pushed them aside, holding them the extra beat to allow Scully through unscathed. The trees were dense, growing everywhere, battling each other for a little space. Thick gray clouds filled the sky and Mulder wasn't exactly sure in what direction they were traveling anymore.

The pounding headache was unrelenting, the nausea fought for his attention but he continued on. They either found shelter before the storm, or they died. It was as simple and as terrifying as that. Behind him, Scully concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Conversation was impossible: she was unable to walk, talk and breathe at the same time. Each step resulted in a horrible burning lance of pain, making her believe that her lungs were on fire. She wondered briefly how long they could survive the effects of shock and exposure. Staring at her partner's back, she knew that as long as he was there, she would keep on fighting, unwilling to leave him just when they had finally declared their love. They had a lot to talk about. Love and their survival instincts kept them going when every muscle in their bodies screamed for them to stop.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Meanwhile, in Washington, D.C., Skinner slammed down his phone in frustration. And, he hated to admit it, worry. Mulder and Scully were overdue. The hotel confirmed that his 2 agents had not checked in. He spoke to the highway patrol, but there were no reports of any accidents. They admitted that there was 300 miles between Lake Tahoe and the murder site to search. Skinner promised to send out more manpower. "I want those two agents found." He slammed the phone down even as he called for his secretary to book him on the next flight to Reno. He wanted to be close by when he got word on his missing agents.

After 4 hours of walking on sheer autopilot, they came to a narrow path, which had been beaten down to bare earth. Mulder could hear Scully's teeth chattering. The temperature was falling fast, the wind starting to pick up and it was getting harder to see in the waning light. Five minutes later, they got to a small clearing and Mulder heard running water ahead. He stopped to listen as he pulled out the flashlight and carefully swept the area before them.

At that moment, the clouds opened up and released the rain it had been storing all day. When the beam of the flashlight bounced back at him, Mulder had to blink his eyes. (Rain? Or something else?) He scarcely dared to hope.

"Hey, Scully - I think I might have found -" he broke off when he turned and saw her. Her hands hung limply at her side, her eyes were glassy and blank, her face slack. "Scully-" He got no farther, having to rush forward as her knees buckled and she collapsed. She dropped so sharply that he almost missed her completely. He was able to grip her upper arm and keep her from hitting her head but her body twisted in his hold until he could rearrange himself. As he cradled her in his arms, she struggled in vain to get up, her eyes remaining closed.

"Scully - don't move - just rest a minute," he murmured, holding her carefully. He needn't have bothered. Scully's body refused to respond to her feeble efforts to stand. She was freezing; her whole body began to shake as he held on to her, the rain pouring down on them.

Mulder was frantic. He groped at her neck, attempting to check her pulse; a task made more difficult due to his numb and trembling fingers. At last he found it - weak, erratic. Impossibly, her breathing seemed more labored, more rapid. She had yet to open her eyes.

"Scully, you hang in there. Do you hear me? Don't you die on me - not here - not now! Do you hear me Dana Scully? Don't you leave me!" he cried, his face pressed against his partner's.

Shelter. They had to find shelter. He pointed his flashlight at the spot he had found a few moments ago. There was the reflection again. He hesitated though. He had to check it out but he didn't want to leave her alone. He had no choice and telling himself it would only be a minute or two, he propped Scully against a tree and hurried off. When he got close enough to determine that it was indeed a house, dark and deserted, he felt that his first prayer had been answered.

Racing back, he found her, unbelievably, crawling on her hands and knees, struggling to stand. Overwhelming nausea swept over her, racking her body. In desperation she closed her eyes, squeezed them tight and bit her lip in sheer agony.

Mulder rushed to her, putting a supporting arm around her. "Scully, hang on." With his help, she was able to stand, swaying back and forth, her balance precarious. "I found a house. Just a little bit farther ahead."

She looked up at him dully, unable to speak as the tears and the rain streamed down her cheeks. The rain beat down on them mercilessly. Mulder didn't wait for a response. He put one arm around Scully's waist, held her tightly and moved as fast as he dared to shelter. To their only hope for survival.

Mulder was not surprised to find the door to the cabin locked. Not bothering to check every window and wasting precious time, he simply shot the lock off and hurried inside. The flashlight revealed furniture covered with drop cloths and a large fireplace. He led Scully to the couch then went to work.

On the porch there were several cords of wood protected from the rain. In his weakened state, it took a couple of trips but he transferred enough wood to last through the night. Then, using the drop cloths as kindling, he soon had a roaring fire going. Slumped on the couch, Scully sighed as the warmth touched her near-frozen body, drawing Mulder's attention. Throwing off his coat, he helped her out of hers then moved to pull off her boots. A quick trip to the bedroom yielded several thick quilts as well as 3 pillows. He returned to find that Scully hadn't moved; she was shivering uncontrollably and wheezing audibly. Mulder knelt before her and fingered her shirt. He was pleased to see that her jacket had protected it but her jeans were soaked.

"Uh - Scully - we've got to get you out of these wet jeans," he said hesitantly.

A single nod was all she could manage as Mulder fumbled with the button and zipper before sliding them down and off. Distantly he thought he'd give up undressing his partner if she would only survive this nightmare. He bundled her in one of the quilts and propped her carefully on 2 pillows in an effort to make her breathing easier.

She tried to speak but was silenced by a paroxysm of coughing. She began to cough and gasp at the same time and for one terrifying moment; she thought she was going to choke. Finally the spasm ended. Wracked with pain, she could only whimper; her body limp, bloody saliva on her lips. Kneeling helplessly before her, Mulder had a frantic sense of time running out - like sand slipping through an hourglass...

Scully closed her eyes. Mulder slipped out of his own wet jeans and boots and wrapped himself in a quilt. The adrenaline that had gotten him this far was gone. Weak and trembling, he sank down in a chair next to Scully as the room seemed to spin at a sickening rate. Exhausted and hollow-eyed, he fought to stay awake. "Scully -" he stared at her; her head had fallen listlessly to one side.

"Scully?" He hoped she sleeping. He was afraid she was unconscious. Almost hesitantly, he took a hold of her wrist and felt her pulse. Weak, rapid and thready. He pulled the chair and couch closer to the fire, and then settled back, again taking hold of her hand. Desperately he clutched at it like a security blanket. (I'll sleep later,) he promised himself. (I'll just close my eyes to rest them a minute and I'll sleep later.)

But sleep bore down on him like an avalanche and within seconds a numbness spread through his body. He slept. Outside, the wind howled and the rain changed to sleet as the temperature continued to fall.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

When Skinner received word that Mulder and Scully's car had been located, he was immediately taken to the helicopter that he'd had standing ready. By the time he arrived at the crash site, what was left of the car had been hauled up to the highway. As the officers reassured him that no bodies had been found, he surveyed the scene in stunned amazement. Evidence of blood on the steering wheel worried him even more. The position of the driver's seat indicated that Mulder had been driving. The wind and rain would hamper the search team as well as several more hours of darkness but no one thought of waiting for the storm to pass. Lives were at stake. Bloodhounds arrived and they immediately picked up the scent and were off.

It was the cold that woke Mulder with a start. The once roaring fire had died to a small pile of embers and he was shivering violently. Glancing down at his watch, he was shocked to see how long he'd been asleep. A thick congested cough ripped through him and he realized at once that he was now sick. One hand to his forehead confirmed that he had a fever. (Oh - God,) he moaned, deeply and unreasonably ashamed of himself. He felt like he'd let down his partner. He couldn't be sick. He had to be stronger. Reaching for his now dry jeans, his movements slow and sluggish, he rekindled the fire. The warmth was immediate and welcome.

Mulder sat down next to Scully. It didn't appear that she had moved at all. Only the shallow rise and fall of her chest with each uneven breath let him know that she was alive. Suddenly uneasy, he stared at her face intently. Something was different. Her left cheek was still bruised and swollen, her right was flushed. Flushed! Biting back the growing dread, he reached out and touched her. The skin was unbelievably hot - she was burning up with fever. At the touch of his hand, Scully jerked and began mumbling incoherently, delirious.

Alarmed, Mulder gripped her shoulders and carefully shook her. "Scully! Scully - open your eyes!" he yelled. "Look at me, Scully!" he demanded.

With a superhuman effort, Scully did as she was told. She tried to focus on the voice in front of her, so filled with anguish and fear, but the face was blurred. She was seeing everything double.

"Scully - talk to me - please!" Mulder begged, his face a mask of despair. He held her up trying to get her to see him. He watched her lips move but no sound came out and he wasn't entirely sure that she even knew that he was there. When her eyes rolled back and her body went completely limp, Mulder felt his world slipping through his fingers. He quickly made sure that her heart was still beating, even as his own felt like it was breaking apart. (Please, Scully,) he silently prayed. (Please, don't leave me...)

When Mulder heard the commotion outside, he didn't dare to hope that help had arrived. Pulling himself to his feet, he tottered to the door and came face to face with A.D. Walter Skinner, a group of forest rangers, and 2 barking hound dogs. Skinner stared at his agent. He had no idea how he had survived - the young man didn't look as if he should be able to stand. His eyes were bloodshot, the left bruised and nearly swollen shut. His face was gaunt and otherwise shockingly pale and his lips bloodless.

"Agent Mulder -" Words died in his throat as he and the others rushed forward when Mulder sagged against the wall. His relief, so profound, it threatened to overwhelm him. He was led inside and he gave in to the pain - the fatigue.

"Scully ...help...sick..." He managed, his words were slurring, barely intelligible. The last thing he saw was the horror on Skinner's face as he took in Scully's condition before succumbing to unconsciousness.

The helicopter arrived within minutes bearing 2 paramedics and 2 stretchers. Skinner stood helplessly by as they worked on his agents. Oxygen, IV's, warm blankets. There was only 1 cardiac monitor and he tensed when it was placed on Scully. That meant that she needed it more. He helped them get loaded into the chopper and climbed into the front passenger seat. Listening to the reports as they radioed in only added to his worry.

"Male, late 30's. B/P 80/40, pulse 140, respirations 44, temp 101.9"

"Female, mid 30's. B/P 70 palp, pulse 190, respirations 80 and extremely labored, temp 104.9."

"Laceration to scalp, left eye swollen, pupils equal reactive but sluggish, conscious on arrival."

"Monitor shows sinus tach with occasional PVC. Blunt trauma to lower chest, no breath sounds at the bases, unresponsive."

On it went. When they arrived at the trauma center at Lake Tahoe, things seemed to move even faster. Mulder and Scully were each rushed to a trauma room and surrounded by physicians and nurses and techs. Skinner was left to handle the paperwork. It was going to be a long night.

Chapter 13

For Scully, it was a never-ending nightmare. At some level of her mind, she struggled to believe that - to remember that - over the past 4 years since her abduction, she had always awakened from the nightmares, always been safe with Mulder planted firmly at her bedside. But now, there was no one there; no one to stem the helplessness, the pain, and the unremitting terror. As they had during numerous dreams - hands pinned her on her back, and then tied her down, white lights, nameless faces. She fought to free herself until her arms and legs burned with the effort, but the bonds were like steel. Hands – disembodied hands - forcing something between her teeth. She attempted to push against it with her tongue, shaking her head violently from side to side to no avail. Deeper and deeper into her mouth, clogging the back of her throat, choking her. She strained to pull in air through swollen, narrowed nostrils. She knew she had an IV and when she felt the burning in her arm she realized that something had been injected into the tubing. Time became meaningless as the initial burning faded away. Mercifully, she remembered nothing more.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

As he watched the medical personnel through a small window, Skinner silently prayed for his agents' lives, unable to shake the almost overwhelming feeling of helplessness and despair. Watching Scully's futile struggles against the medical personnel working to save her life, Skinner knew he'd never forget that scene as long as he lived. He would have given anything to go in and help her but knew that intubation was necessary. He had heard the words "respiratory failure" and understood that Scully was either put on a ventilator or she died. It didn't make witnessing her pain any easier.

After an unknown length of time, Mulder opened his eyes from a dreamless sleep. At first, his mind drew a blank as he looked around at unfamiliar surroundings. But then, consciousness brought perception of - pain -pain in his back and the pounding headache. And then images: dead bodies.. ..Jeffrey Spender..the crash..Scully...

He felt his senses begin to focus and he struggled to reconstruct the hazy events following the crash. Moving only his eyes, he realized that he was in an intensive care unit. His body still felt battered and sore, but his headache had diminished to a more tolerable level and he felt like his fever was gone. Seeing a call button on the side rail, he started to reach for it when Skinner walked in. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw that Mulder was awake.

"Agent Mulder, how do you feel?" He asked in concern.

"I'm trying not to," Mulder replied groggily. "Where's Scully? What time is it? How long have I been here?'

"Whoa - hold on a minute," Skinner said as he easily pushed Mulder back onto the pillow. "First things first. There is a doctor out there who's been waiting to examine you when you came around. Scully's a couple of doors down and I'll fill you in as soon as they're finished with you."

Frustrated but helpless to fight, Mulder allowed himself to be poked and prodded; taking some measure of comfort knowing that Scully was alive. The doctor informed him that he would be starting him on muscle relaxers for the severe cervical and lumbar strain. He was told that he had arrived with a concussion, which was no surprise, severe dehydration, pneumonia, and exposure.

Skinner was allowed to see Mulder as long as he promised to keep the visit short. He pulled up a chair after helping to raise the head of the bed for Mulder to a more comfortable position.

Mulder winced in pain - his back and neck still incredibly stiff and sore. He looked expectantly at his boss, waiting for him to fill him in.

"For starters," Skinner began, "It's Monday morning; almost 48 hours since we found you and flew in to Lake Tahoe Medical Center. Agent Scully just got out of surgery 5 hours ago."

"Surgery!" Mulder felt his stomach lurch.

Skinner held up a hand to silence further questions. "She is in serious but stable condition. It turns out that she had 4 fractured ribs that caused quite a bit of damage. A pulmonary contusion, and lacerated spleen. She came in, like you, with severe dehydration, pneumonia and exposure. I just checked on her. She on a ventilator, heavily medicated and the doctor says that she's going to stay that way another 6 or 7 days, depending on how quickly she recovers."

Mulder sank back. Stunned, he tried to let it all sink in. Scully was alive.

"Do you feel up to telling me what happened out there?" Skinner asked.

"Yeah, sure." Mulder tried to clear his throat, his lips dry and cracked. "Could I get some water, please?"

Skinner filled a glass from the bedside pitcher and handed it to Mulder, who gulped it greedily.

Mulder started by describing the accident: the moose, waking up to find that Scully had rescued him from the car before the explosion, finding her 6 hours later.

Skinner was silent. He had seen the car and after listening to Mulder, he knew he had been correct in his belief that his agents' survival had been truly miraculous.

"I barely remember hiking to the cabin," Mulder went on. "Just walking, endlessly. All I could think was that if we didn't find shelter, we were dead. We got to the cabin just as the rain started. Scully was really out of it by this time. Before you got there, her fever was so high that she was delirious." Mulder shuddered at the recollection.

Looking at the young man before him, Skinner had a flash of understanding: it seemed that together, Mulder and Scully were almost invincible. He refilled the water glass, thinking that Scully wasn't really out of the woods yet, but he wasn't about to tell Mulder that. He watched Mulder's eyelids drooping and knew that he wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer. Skinner stood to leave, just as a young nurse walked in with a small IV bag.

"He really needs his rest," she whispered.

"I was just leaving," Skinner informed her quietly. He was almost out the door when Mulder called after him. He turned back.

"Keep an eye on her, please. Let me know how she's doing," he requested.

Skinner nodded and was gone. The request was expected and easily filled.

Chapter 14

The next day, Skinner checked out of the hotel and returned to the hospital to see how his two agents were doing before flying back to Washington that evening. He stood at the doorway, staring over at Scully, who seemed nearly invisible amongst the tubes, wires, and machinery that surrounded the bed. The lights had been dimmed, and only a soft glow illuminated the woman propped up on pillows. Skinner shook his head. He had seen horrendous things in his life, his tour of duty in Vietnam had shown him things that had changed his life. But Dana Scully in a hospital bed - on a ventilator...that sight touched him in a very private part of his heart that was reserved solely for Dana Scully and Fox Mulder.

He took one step inside, the sound of the ventilator's hypnotic rhythm pulling him forward. Staring down at Scully's chalky pale cheeks, the left still bruised, he watched as his right hand reached out, seemingly of its own volition, to touch the cool skin. A shiver coursed through him. Abruptly he backed out, his jaw clenched, his fingers tingling from their brief contact with her. As he stepped out, he couldn't resist one more glance back. Staring at Scully lying so very still - all the pretty color shocked from her face. It was this distressing image that he carried with him.

Next, he checked on Mulder. He found the normally garrulous patient lying as quiet and still as he'd ever seen him. "Mulder?"

Fox Mulder looked over at Skinner, wincing slightly, his eyes heavy-lidded. "Hello, sir." He spoke slowly, his words slurred slightly.

Skinner couldn't help but grin. "I see the muscle relaxers have started working."

Mulder huffed softly. "Very funny, sir. How's Scully?"

Skinner shook his head. (Well, that took all of 30 seconds.) "Unchanged."

Mulder simply closed his eyes. He hadn't really expected anything more or less.

Skinner quietly cleared his throat. "I'm heading back to D.C. They're going to call me when Scully is ready to be taken off the ventilator and as soon as she's stable, we'll all return on a medical transport plane."

Barely able to keep his eyes open, Mulder nodded.

"Get some rest," Skinner said quietly. "Call me if there is anything you need." Without opening his eyes, Mulder thanked him and fell almost instantly asleep. Skinner slipped out and went to the nurses' station, requesting to speak with the charge nurse. He gave her his business card with instructions to call if there were any problems.

"I'm sure everything will be just fine, sir," the brown - haired woman assured him, taking the proffered card and pocketing it.

Skinner simply nodded, and said a silent prayer that Mulder would behave himself. He wasn't known for being a model patient, and Scully was in no condition to keep an eye on him.

Chapter 15

For Mulder, it was three hellishly long days before he was able to get out of bed and see Scully for himself. The high dose muscle relaxers helped the severe back and neck spasms but left him barely able to lift his own fork. The antibiotics had gotten his pneumonia under control and he was at last afebrile. The nurses gave him regular, if unchanging reports on Scully, who remained heavily sedated on the ventilator.

Finally he was allowed to visit his partner, although he was forced to sit in a wheelchair, pushed by a lanky junior volunteer named Todd. The young man had been given strict orders to notify the nurses if the patient even attempted to get out of the chair. Mulder simply glared at the nurses, unwilling to risk their anger and lose his chance to see Scully.

When Todd entered Scully's room, he heard Mulder moan softly, obviously in pain. He stopped. "Mr. Mulder? Are you all right?"

Mulder closed his eyes, his breath coming in short painful gasps. (No, kid - I'm not all right,) he thought desperately. (No - because my partner - the woman who gives meaning to my very existence - the woman I love more than any man has loved a woman is lying in that bed hooked up to more machines than I can count. And those machines seem to be the only thing keeping that precious creature alive. So - no. I'm not all right.)

When Mulder did not answer, Todd moved to get him out of the room.

"Wait."

Todd froze at the command.

"Get me closer to her bed," Mulder demanded quietly.

Todd held his ground. "Are you sure, Mr. Mulder? You really don't look so good."

Again, Mulder closed his eyes, thinking it wouldn't get any better if he didn't touch Scully in the next 10 seconds. He wanted nothing more than to stand up and rush to Scully's side and he knew that no matter how he tried to convince himself otherwise, he simply did not have the strength. "Todd. Get this damn chair next to her bed, right now." He said softly, dangerously, his head pounding painfully.

Todd, wise beyond his seventeen years, heard the determination and something he was unable to identify in Mulder's voice. It was that "something" that made him push Mulder over to the bed and then slowly back out of the room.

Hardly daring to breathe, and unable to tear his eyes from Scully's face, Mulder whispered a silent prayer to the powers that be that never again would he be confronted by the sight of his partner on total life support. Trembling, he reached out to take her hand. It felt cold and lifeless, heightening his fear. Reaching up with his other hand, he let his fingers touch her pale cheeks and graze her lips, which had also lost their naturally rosy color.

"Dana," he called softly, desperately hoping for a response. "Can you hear me?...Dana, I'm here," he whispered, trying to warm the chill in her fingers. "Hang on, Scully ...please ...I need you..." Caressing her hand and pulling it to his lips, he let the reality of his words wash through his soul. He did need her. He always had. And he always would. And he had always known that.

When the nurse found him asleep, his head propped on Scully's arm, she quietly woke him. "Back to bed, Agent Mulder. I'll bring you back later."

Morosely, Mulder nodded and allowed himself to be wheeled back to his bed.

For the next four days, Mulder was shuffled between his room, Scully's bedside, and grueling physical therapy sessions. He was told that Scully's condition was improving slowly, but surely. Mulder, however, would not be satisfied until he was able to again fall into the depths of his partner's incredible blue eyes.

Darkness: solid darkness. Sounds: unintelligible sounds. Anguish. It was these sensations that first gained coherence in Scully's brain. Eventually the darkness faded some, leaving a thick, misty haze. Time, as she knew it, was meaningless: as meaningless as the sounds that attempted to penetrate the haze. And then the essence of her awoke. In her mind, she actually heard Mulder calling to her, and became frustrated that she could not respond to him. She found that she was able to feel his hand around hers, stroking and again she was helpless to move. Fox Mulder. His presence filled her - overwhelmed her – took her breath away.

When Scully gasped, Mulder jumped violently in his seat. Filled with hope, he moved in closer, gently taking her face in his hands - desperately searching for any sign of returning consciousness. He rang for the nurses and as they assessed his partner, he made a call to Washington D. C.

"Dana...Dana, listen to me. I'm Beth, one of your nurses. Try to hold still and listen..." She waited for Scully to cease her restless movements. "Better...that's better. You can keep your eyes closed, but please listen...Dana, you're on a ventilator. There's a tube down your nose and one down your throat and into you lungs. You had a high fever and we've had to restrain you. Do you understand all that?"

Mulder looked over at Beth when Scully squeezed his hand, and nodded.

"Good. Good, Dana," Beth continued. "Just try and keep calm. I'm going to tell Dr. Carmichael that you're waking up and we'll hopefully get that tube out." She whispered to Mulder and Skinner that the fentanyl drip that had kept Scully sedated was no longer infusing. "She should be waking up any moment now. Let me get Dr. Carmichael, I'll be right back."

Scully held on to the hand she instinctively knew to be Mulder's. She strained to separate nightmare from nightmare. As the haze in her brain cleared ever so slowly, partial memories rushed back. Fuzzy images floated behind her closed eyes. She could hear Mulder whisper words she was unable to make out but just the sound of his voice touched her and soothed her.

As her consciousness and awareness grew, so did the indescribable discomfort of the endotrachael breathing tube and the fearsome sensation of air hunger. She could hear the ventilator bucking and whirring as it fought against her own attempts to breathe. She flashed back to the previous two times that she had been intubated and attempted to coach herself against her struggles. (Slow down,) she begged herself. (Don't fight it. Remember the last time...slow down...go with it...relax and go with it...)

"Dana, can you hear me? Dana, can you open your eyes for me?"

She knew that voice. That voice had been with her. She trusted that voice: she loved that voice. She blinked against the blurriness and the sting of light. Gradually her vision cleared and she was looking up at the man she loved and who had said that he loved her. Mulder was looking down at her with barely contained joy and relief. She caught sight of Skinner and an unknown doctor watching her with hope and concern.

"Ms. Scully, I'm Dr. Carmichael. You're in ICU here at Lake Tahoe. Do you understand?"

Scully flicked her gaze from Mulder to Skinner and blinked once.

"Good," Dr. Carmichael continued. "I'm going to undo the restraints on your wrists. Please don't touch the tubes. Understand?" Scully blinked again. "Good."

Scully waited patiently as the soft foam straps were loosened and then removed. Her head was throbbing but she was fully awake now and rapidly regaining control. Slowly and deliberately, she reached up with her free hand and pointed to the endotracheal tube. Her other hand was still in Mulder's crushing grip, but she wasn't about to let go.

"I know, I know," Dr. Carmichael said. "We're going to get a blood gas and anesthesia will come in and we'll see if we can get that tube out. Are you okay for now?" Again, Scully blinked. "Okay," he went on, "I've switched your vent to demand, so you can breathe any way you want. I'll be right back."

Mulder tried to relax with her, easing up on the death grip he had on her hand.

A respiratory therapist came in with Beth and obtained a sample of blood from the line in Scully's radial artery then hurried off to have it analyzed. In the 10 minutes that followed, Mulder and Skinner stayed beside her, doing what they could to keep her calm and filling her in on the events surrounding their rescue after ascertaining that she remembered the car crash.

"You were pretty sick by the time we got to the deserted cabin," Mulder began. "Do you even remember that?" Scully managed to shake her head. Everything was hazy from the morning after the accident.

Skinner spoke for the first time. "It turns out that your broken ribs caused some internal damage. You were taken to surgery and you've been here in the ICU for the past 8 days."

When Scully's eyes widened, Mulder gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, I'm jealous," he quipped. "I only got 5 days here. Then they shipped me off to the medical floor. I just got released this morning."

Scully pleaded with her eyes for Mulder to continue to fill in the blanks. With a wry grin, he got the message and went on.

"We had walked all day and finally found a cabin just ass the rain started. I got us settled in, then basically passed out until the cavalry showed up. Our leader here arrived with park rangers and paramedics and basically saved our lives.

Scully looked over at Skinner with such unabashed gratitude that he actually blushed. He wasn't used to hearing praise from Mulder or seeing that appreciative look in Scully's eye. To cover his embarrassment, he filled her in on Mulder's condition, then not knowing what else to say, he glanced outside. He caught sight of Beth. "Uh-hang on, Scully. Beth and Dr. Carmichael are coming back with another doctor."

The news from the pulmonary lab was very good. Scully's blood gases - her pH, oxygen, and carbon dioxide levels-were all good enough to warrant taking her off the vent. Dr. Carmichael introduced Dr. Schaeffer, the anesthesiologist.

"All right, Ms. Scully. Do you know the procedure?"

Scully blinked - yes.

"If you're ready?" Dr. Schaeffer prompted. She blinked again.

As the anesthesiologist moved into position at the head of the bed, Scully caught Skinner's eye. He was on the opposite side of the bed from Mulder. She extended her hand. Skinner did a double take. (Me?) his expression said as clearly as if he'd spoken aloud.

Scully blinked. (Yes.)

Slightly flustered, Skinner took a breath and swallowed her hand in his. He caught Mulder looking at him, nodding his approval.

"Okay, Ms. Scully, here we go."

Scully held on to Mulder and Skinner as she endured having her trachea suctioned and then the tube pulled out. As she sputtered, gagged, and coughed spasmodically, Mulder and Skinner held on, steadying her through the coughing jag. Finally, she was able to breathe without coughing but still was panting slightly. She sank back against the pillows.

Dr. Schaeffer and Dr. Carmichael listened to her lungs and were satisfied that she was stable, and then they stepped outside. Beth put her on oxygen by nasal cannula before leaving also.

Mulder gently brushed away the tears that had slipped from his partner's eyes. "Are you sure you're okay, Scully?"

"Yeah," she rasped; weak and hoarse. "Thanks, Mulder." She looked over at Skinner. "Thanks to you, too, sir, for your support."

He smiled faintly. "You've always had my support, Agent Scully. I - I can't imagine what that must feel like."

"It was my third time," Scully said quietly, "and hopefully my last."

Mulder stared at her closely. She looked so pale and helpless. And so tired. He made a promise right then and there, that she would have at least a month to recuperate and he was going to make sure she did indeed rest.

"Hey, third times the charm," Mulder joked and Scully smiled.

"Is there any water in here?" She asked softly.

"Yeah, sure," Mulder replied and moved to fill the glass on the bedside table for her.

Noticing that Mulder still held himself carefully and stiffly, she asked Skinner if he would help her sit up. Flustered, Skinner swallowed and ever so gently, reached behind Scully's shoulders and raised her up. Mulder placed the glass to her lips and watched her eagerly swallow the cool liquid. Water had never tasted so good.

"Thanks, guys," Scully said, a sleepy, dreamy quality commanding her voice. The past few minutes had left her completely exhausted. It was becoming harder and harder to keep her eyes open.

Mulder brushed her forehead with a gentle kiss before heading out. He felt that he could relax at last. His Scully was going to be all right. Skinner stared down at Scully who was already sound asleep. Though her face was pale, it seemed calm, now, almost serene. "Take care, Dana," he whispered softly, placing his hand briefly on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Take care." Then he too was gone.

The End.


End file.
